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"BRING  ME  fflS  EARS" 


Tom  pushed  on  ahead  to  reconnoiter  the  Upper  Spring 

[Page  262^ 


"Bring  Me  His  Ears" 


By 

CLARENCE  E.  MULFORD 

Author  of  The  Bar-20  Three;  Johnny  Nelson;  Hopalong 

Cassidy;  Buck  Peters,  Ranchman;  The  Man 

from  Bar-20;  ''  Tex;  "  Etc. 

Frontispiece  by  J.  Allen  St.  John 


CHICAGO 

A.  C.  McCLURG  &  CO. 

1922 


Copyright 

A.  C.  McClurg  &  Co. 

1922 


Published  October,  1922 


Copyrighted  in  Great  Britain 


PriiUed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


M.    A.    DONOHUE    ft    CO.,  PRINTERS    AND    BINDERS.  CHICAGO 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  Hawkens'  Gun  Store i 

II  Aboard  the  Missouri  Belle 13 

III  Armijo's  Strong  Arm 19 

IV  Tom  Changes  His  Plans 38 

V  The  Insult 65 

VI  Indians  and  Gamblers yy 

VII  The  Wrecking  of  the  Missouri  Belle     .     .     95 

VIII  The  New  Six-gun 108 

IX  The  Caravan 128 

X  En  Route 151 

XI  Indian   Country 164 

XII  Pawnees 190 

XIII  Hurrah  for  Texas 196 

XIV  The  Valley  of  the  Cimarron 220 

XV  Texan  Scouts 239 

XVI  The  Passing  of  Pedro 256 

XVII  "'Spress  from  Bent's" 271 

XVIII  Santa  Fe 285 

XIX  The  Rendezvous 299 

XX  Tom  Reneges 310 

XXI  The  Kidnapping 323 

XXII  ''Los  Tejanosf' 331 

iVil03i20 


''Bring  Me  His  Ears" 

CHAPTER  I 

HAWKENS'    GUN    STORE 

THE  tall,  lanky  Missourian  leaning  against  the  cor- 
ner of  a  ramshackle  saloon  on  Locust  Street,  St. 
Louis,  Missouri  —  the  St.  Louis  of  the  early  forties  — 
turned  his  whiskey-marked  face  toward  his  companion,  a 
short  and  slender  Mexican  trader,  sullenly  listening  to 
the  latter's  torrent  of  words,  which  was  accompanied  by 
many  and  excitable  gesticulations.  The  Missourian 
shook  his  head  in  reply  to  the  accusations  of  his  com- 
panion. 

"  But  he  was  on  thee  boat  weeth  us ! "  exclaimed  the 
other.  "An'  you  lose  heem — lak  theese!"  the  sharp 
snap  of  his  fingers  denoted  magic. 

"  Thar  ain't  no  use  o*  gittin'  riled,"  replied  Schoolcraft. 
"  How  in  tarnation  kin  a  man  keep  th'  trail  o'  a  slippery 
critter  like  him  in  these  yere  crowds?  I'll  git  sight  o' 
him,  right  yere." 

"  That  ees  w'at  you  say,"  rejoined  the  Mexican,  shrug- 
ging his  shoulders.  "But  w'at  weel  /  say  to  le  Gober^ 
nadorf  Theese  hombre  Tomaz  Boyd — he  know  vera 
many  t'eengs  —  too  vera  many  t'eengs  —  an'  he  ensult  le 
Gobernador.     Madre    de    Dios — sooch    ensult!"     He 


BRING. ME  HIS  EARS 


shiypre^'^i.Ul^.thoy^ht  "Wen  I  get  thee  message,  I 
tr-remb'le!'  It  say  *Br-ring  heem  to  me  —  or  breeng  me 
his  ears ! '  I  am  tol'  to  go  to  Sefior  Schooler-raft  at  Een- 
dependence — he  ees  thee  man.  I  go;  an'  then  you  lose 
heem !  Bah !  You  do  not  know  theese  Manuel  Armijo, 
le  Gobernador  de  Santa  Fe,  my  f  ren'  —  I  tr-remble ! " 

"You  need  a  good  swig,  that's  what  you  need,'* 
growled  Schoolcraft.  "  An'  if  ye  warn't  a  chuckle-head," 
he  said  with  a  flash  of  anger,  "  we  wouldn't  'a'  come  yere 
at  all ;  I  told  ye  he's  got  th'  prairie  fever  an'  shore  would 
come  back  to  Independence,  whar  I  got  friends;  but  no 
—  we  had  ter  f oiler  him ! "  He  spat  emphatically.  "  Thar 
warn't  no  sense  to  it,  nohow!" 

The  other  waved  his  arms.    "  But  w'y  we  stan'  here, 
lak  theese  ?    W'y  you  do  no'teeng?  " 

"Now  you  look  a-here,  Pedro,"  growled  the  Mis- 
sourian,  his  sullen  gaze  passing  up  and  down  the  slender 
Mexican.  "  Ye  don't  want  ter  use  no  spurs  on  this  critter. 
I  ain't  no  greaser!  If  ye'll  hold  them  arms  still  fer  a 
minute  I'll  tell  ye  somethin'.  Thar's  three  ways  o'  gittin' 
a  deer:  one  is  trailin'  —  which  we've  found  ain't  no 
good;  another  is  layin'  low  near  a  runway — which  is 
yer  job;  th'  third  is  watchin'  th'  salt  lick — which  is  my 
job.  You  go  down  ter  th'  levee,  git  cached  among  them 
piles  o'  freight  an'  keep  a  lookout  on  th'  landin'  stage  o' 
th'  Belle,  I'll  stick  right  yere  on  this  corner  an'  watch 
th'  lick,  which  is  Hawkens'  gun  store.  He  lost  his  pistol 
overboard,  comin'  down  th'  river,  didn't  he?  An'  th' 
Belle  ain't  sailin'  till  arter  ten  o'clock,  is  she  ?  One  o'  us 
is  bound  ter  git  sight  o'  him,  fer  he'll  shore  go  back  by  th' 
river;  an'  if  thar's  any  place  in  this  town  whar  a  plains- 
man'll  go,  it's  that  gun  store,  down  th'  street.    You  do 


HAW  KENS'  GUN  STORE 


what  I  say,  or  you  an'  Armijo  kin  go  plumb  ter  hell! 
An'  don't  ye  wave  yer  fists  under  my  nose  no  more, 
Pedro ;  I  might  misunderstand  ye." 

The  Mexican's  face  brightened.  "  Eet  ees  good,  vera 
good,  Seiior  Schoolcraft.  Hah!  You  have  thee  br-rains, 
my  fren'.  Armijo,  he  say : '  Pedro,  get  heem  to  Santa  Fe, 
if  you  can.  If  you  can't,  then  keel  heem,  an'  breeng  me 
hees  ears.'  Bueno!  I  go,  senor.  I  go  pronto.  Buena 
dial'' 

"  Then  git,"  growled  Schoolcraft.  "  Thar's  that  long- 
faced  clerk  o'  Hawkens'  openin'  th'  shop.  Now  remem- 
ber: this  side  o'  th'  junction  o'  th'  Oregon  trail  I'm  only 
ter  watch  him.  If  he  goes  southwest  from  th'  junction,  yer 
job  begins;  if  he  heads  up  fer  th'  Platte,  my  job  starts. 
I  ain't  got  no  love  fer  him,  but  I'm  hopin'  he  heads  fer 
Oregon  an'  gets  killed  quick !  I  hate  ter  thinlc  o'  a  white 
man  in  Armijo's  paws.  An'  if  he  hangs  'round  th'  set- 
tlements, we  toss  up  fer  th'  job.  If  that's  right,  va- 
moose/' 

"Eet  ees  r-right  to  thee  vera  letter,"  whispered  the 
Mexican,  rubbing  his  hands.  "  Eef  only  I  can  get  heem 
to  Santa  Fe  —  ah,  my  fren' ! " 

"Yer  wuss  nor  a  weasel,"  grunted  the  Missourian, 
slight  prickles  playing  up  and  down  his  spine.  "  Better  git 
down  to  them  freight  piles ! " 

Schoolcraft  watched  his  scurrying  friend  until  he 
slipped  around  a  corner  and  was  lost  to  sight;  then  he 
turned  and  looked  up  the  street  at  the  gun  shop  of  Jake 
and  Samuel  Hawken,  whose  weapons  were  renowned  all 
over  that  far-stretching  western  wilderness.  Shrugging 
his  shoulders,  he  glanced  in  disgust  at  the  heavy,  patented 
repeating  rifle  in  his  hand  and,  letting  his  personal  affairs 


BRING  ME  HIS  EARS 


take  precedence  over  those  of  the  distant  Mexican  tyrant, 
he  swung  down  the  street,  crossed  it,  and  entered  the 
famous  gun  shop.  He  risked  nothing  by  the  move,  for 
the  store  was  the  Mecca  of  frontiersmen,  and  a  trip  to  St. 
Louis  was  hardly  complete  without  a  visit  to  the  shop. 

The  Hawkens  were  established,  so  much  so  that  they 
were  to  be  singled  out  by  one  of  the  famous  Colt  family 
with  a  partnership  proposition.  The  fame  of  their  rifles 
had  rolled  westward  to  the  Rockies  and  beyond.  They 
were  to  be  found  across  the  Canadian  and  Mexican 
boundaries  and  wherever  hunters  and  trappers  congre- 
gated, who  scorned  the  Northwest  fusil  as  fit  only  for 
trading  purposes,  laughed  in  their  sleeves  at  the  prepos- 
terous length  and  general  inefficiency  of  the  Hudson  Bay 
muskets,  and  contentedly  patted  the  stocks  of  their  Haw- 
kens'.  There  is  a  tradition  that  the  length  of  the  Hudson 
Bay  muskets,  which  often  rose  over  the  head  of  a  tall 
man  while  the  butt  rested  on  the  ground,  was  due  to  the 
fact  that  the  ignorant  Indians  could  obtain  a  white  man's 
gun  only  by  stacking  up  beaver  skins  until  the  pile  was 
as  high  as  the  musket.  Even  worse  than  the  flintlock 
trade  guns  were  the  esc  o  pet  as  of  the  south,  matchlocks 
of  prodigious  bore  and  no  accuracy  or  power,  which  were 
used  by  many  of  the  Mexicans.  That  swarthy-skinned 
race  which  suffered  under  the  tyranny  of  Armijo  seemed 
to  believe  that  anything  which  used  powder  was  a 
weapon.  The  rank  and  file  of  the  Mexicans  were  coura- 
geous and  usually  fought  bravely  until  deserted  by  their 
officers,  or  until  they  were  fully  convinced  that  the  mis- 
cellaneous junk  with  which  they  were  armed  was  worse 
than  useless.  It  can  hardly  be  expected  that  men  shoot- 
ing pebbles,  nails,  and  what-not  out  of  nearly  useless 


HAWKENS'   GUN  STORE 


blunderbusses;  or  using  bows,  arrows,  and  lances  will 
stand  up  very  long  against  straight-shooting  troops 
armed  with  the  best  rifles ;  add  to  this  the  great  difference 
in  morale,  and  the  ever-present  distrust  of  the  officers, 
and  a  fair  and  honest  understanding  may  be  arrived  at 

Hawkens'  clerk  took  down  one  of  the  great  rifles  to 
go  over  it  with  an  oiled  rag,  which  was  another  example 
of  painting  the  lily.  The  weapon  was  stocked  to  the 
muzzle  and  shot  a  bullet  weighing  thirty-two  to  the 
pound,  each  thus  being  an  honest  half-oimce  of  lead.  It 
was  brass  mounted  and  had  a  poorly  done  engraving  of 
a  buffalo  on  the  trap  in  its  stock.  He  turned  to  replace 
it  and  take  down  another  when  the  sound  of  the  opening 
door  made  him  pause  and  face  the  incoming  customer. 

The  newcomer  was  neither  hunter  nor  trapper,  gam- 
bler nor  merchant,  to  judge  from  his  nondescript  and 
mixed  attire.  His  left  hand  had  an  ugly  welt  running 
across  the  base  of  the  palm  and  it  had  not  been  healed 
long  enough  to  have  lost  its  distinctive  color.  In  his 
right  hand  he  carried  a  rifle  which  was  new  to  that  part 
of  the  country,  and  he  slid  it  onto  the  counter. 

"  Swap  ye,"  he  gruffly  said,  stepping  back  and  leering 
at  the  clerk.  "  Too  ak'ard  f er  me.  Can't  git  used  ter  it, 
nohow.  I  like  a  stock  with  a  big  drop — this  un  makes 
me  hump  my  head  down  like  a  bull  buffaler.  That's  th' 
wuss  o'  havin'  a  long  neck." 

The  clerk  glanced  at  the  repeating  Colt  and  then  at  the 
injured  hand.  The  faintest  possible  suggestion  of  a  know- 
ing smile  flitted  across  his  face,  and  he  shook  his  head. 

"Those  are  too  dangerous,"  he  replied.  "We  don't 
handle  them." 

"W'y,  that's  a  fine  rifle!"  growled  the  customer,  a 


BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 


heavy  frown  settling  on  his  coarse  face.  "Six  shots, 
with  them  newfangled  caps,  without  re-loadin'.  She's  a 
plumb  fine  weapon ! " 

"Looks  good,"  laughed  the  clerk;  "but  we  don't  care 
to  handle  them." 

"They've  sorta  put  yer  nose  outer  j'int,  ain't  they?" 
sneered  the  customer.  "  Wall,  ye  kin  bet  yer  peltries  I 
wouldn't  be  givin'  ye  th'  chanct  to  handle  this  un,"  he 
angrily  declared,  "if  it  had  a  bigger  drop  an'  warn't  so 
ak'ard  fer  a  man  like  me.  Ye  can't  find  a  rifle  in  yer 
danged  store  as  kin  hold  a  candle  ter  it.  I  bet  ye  ain't 
never  seen  one  afore ! " 

"It's  our  business  to  keep  informed,"  responded  the 
clerk,  still  smiling.  "We  heard  all  about  that  rifle  as 
soon  as  it  was  patented." 

"  But  ye  alius  could  sell  a  gun  like  this  un,"  persisted 
the  scowling  owner.  "  Ye  must  have  a  hull  passel  o'  ten- 
derfeet  a-comin'  in  yere." 

The  clerk  frowned  and  his  voice  became  slightly  edged. 
"  The  reputation  of  Hawkens'  is  a  valuable  asset.  It  was 
acquired  in  two  ways:  honest  goods  and  fair  dealing. 
Most  tenderfeet  ask  us  for  a  gun  that  we  can  recom- 
mend ;  we  cannot  recommend  that  rifle.  Do  you  care  to 
look  at  one  that  will  not  shoot  through  the  palm  of  your 
extended  hand  after  it  gets  hot  from  rapid  shooting?" 

"  I  got  ye  thar,  pardner ! "  retorted  the  customer.  "  I 
done  that  with  a  poker.  Ye  don't  seem  anxious  ter  do 
no  business." 

"  Our  stock  and  my  time  are  at  your  disposal,"  replied 
the  clerk;  "but  we  cannot  take  that  Colt  in  part  pay- 
ment." 

"  Wall,  ye  don't  have  ter :  I  know  a  man  as  will ;  an' 


HAWKENS'   GUN   STORE 


he  ain't  all  swelled  up,  neither.  You  an'  yer  rifles  kin  go 
ter  h — ^1  together! "  He  jerked  the  Colt  from  the  counter 
and  stamped  out,  cursing  at  every  step,  and  slammed  the 
door  behind  him  so  hard  that  it  shook  the  shop.  Thor- 
oughly angered,  he  strode  down  the  street  and  had  gone  a 
block  before  he  remembered  that  he  was  to  keep  watch  on 
the  shop.  Cursing  anew,  he  wheeled  and  went  back  on 
the  other  side  of  the  street  and  stopped  at  the  corner  of  a 
ramshackle  saloon. 

The  clerk  was  taking  down  another  rifle  when  the  door 
opened  again  and  he  wheeled  aggressively,  but  his  frown 
was  swiftly  wiped  out  by  a  smile. 

The  newcomer  was  somewhere  in  the  twenties,  stood 
six  feet  two  in  his  moccasins,  and  had  the  broad,  sloping 
shoulders  that  tell  of  great  strength.  He  was  narrow 
waisted  and  sinewy  and  walked  with  a  step  light  and 
springy.  Dressed  in  buckskin  from  the  soles  of  his  feet 
to  the  top  of  his  head,  he  had  around  his  waist  a  broad 
belt,  from  which  hung  powder  horn,  bullet  pouch,  a  con- 
tainer for  caps,  a  buckskin  bag  for  spare  patches,  a  bullet 
mold,  and  a  heavy,  honest  skinning  knife.  Slung  from  a 
strap  over  one  shoulder  hung  his  "possible"  bag,  con- 
taining various  small  articles  necessary  to  his  calling.  In 
his  hand  was  a  double-barreled  rifle  which  he  seemed  to 
be  excited  about. 

"  Mr.  Jarvis ! "  he  exclaimed,  offering  the  weapon  for 
inspection.    "  Tell  me  what  you  think  of  this  ?  " 

The  clerk  chuckled  and  his  eyes  lighted  with  pleasure. 
"Fve  seen  it,  or  its  twin,  before.  English,  fine  sights, 
shooting  about  thirty-six  balls  to  the  pound.  They're 
pointed,  aren't  they?  Ah-ha!  I  thought  so."  He  took 
the  gun  and  examined  it  carefully.  "  Just  what  I've  been 


8  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

trying  to  tell  Mr.  Jacob  Hawken.  Look  at  those  nipples : 
large  diameter  across  the  threaded  end,  making  it  much 
easier  to  worry  out  wet  powder  by  removing  them  and 
working  with  a  bent  wire  from  that  end.  We  have  to 
work  at  the  ball  with  a  screw,  and  that  is  no  easy  task 
after  the  patch  paper  becomes  swollen.  With  this  rifle 
you  can  replace  the  wet  powder  with  dry  and  fire  the  ball 
out  in  much  less  time.    Where  did  you  get  it,  Mr.  Boyd  ?  " 

The  plainsman  laughed  exultingly.  "Won  it  on  the 
boat  coming  down,  from  an  English  sportsman  who  was 
returning  home.  He  said  it  was  a  fine  weapon,  and  I 
thought  so;  but  I  wanted  your  opinion.'^ 

"Take  it  out  on  the  Grand  Prairie  and  try  it  out. 
From  what  I  can  see  here  it  is  a  remarkably  fine  rifle; 
but  handsome  is,  you  know." 

"  I've  tried  it  out  already,"  laughed  the  other.  "  It's 
the  best  rifle  in  this  country,  always  excepting,  of  course, 
the  Hawken ! " 

"  As  long  as  you  put  it  that  way  I  shall  have  to  agree 
with  you.  Did  you  see  the  man  who  left  a  few  moments 
before  you  came  in?" 

Boyd  nodded  shortly.  "  Yes ;  but  I  don't  care  to  dis- 
cuss him  beyond  warning  you  to  look  out  for  him.  He 
deals  in  draft  animals  in  Independence,  has  the  name  of 
being  slippery,  and  is  known  as  Ephriam  Schoolcraft. 
However,  I'm  not  an  unprejudiced  critic,  for  there  is  not 
the  best  of  feelings  between  us,  due  to  an  unprincipled 
trick  he  tried  to  play  on  my  partner."  His  face  clouded 
for  a  moment.  His  partner  had  joined  the  ill-fated 
Texan  Santa  Fe  Expedition  and  had  lost  his  life  at  the 
hands  of  one  of  Armijo's  brutal  officers,  for  whom  Tom 
Boyd  had  an  abiding  hatred.     On  his  last  visit  to  Santa 


HAW  KENS'   GUN  STORE 


Fe  he  had  shown  it  so  actively  that  only  his  wits  and 
forthright  courage  had  let  him  get  out  of  the  city  with 
his  life.  "  Well,  to  change  the  subject,  I  lost  my  pistol 
in  the  river,  and  Fve  heard  a  great  deal  about  a  revolving 
Colt  pistol  from  some  Texans  I  met.  It  shoots  six  times 
without  reloading  and  is  fitted  for  caps.    Got  one  ?  " 

"  Two,"  chuckled  Jarvis.  "A  large  bore  and  a  smaller. 
They  are  fine  weapons,  but  never  rest  the  barrel  on  your 
other  hand  when  you  shoot." 

"I'll  remember  that.  Which  size  would  you  recom- 
mend for  me  ?  " 

"  The  larger,  by  all  means.  We  are  expecting  a  ship- 
ment by  express  down  the  Ohio  and  it  should  reach  us 
almost  any  day  now.  It  took  the  Texans  to  prove  their 
worth  and  give  them  their  reputation." 

"  Fit  it  with  caps,  mold  and  whatever  it  needs.  I  need 
caps  and  powder  for  the  rifle,  too.  First  quality  Ken- 
tucky, or  Dupont,  of  course." 

The  purchase  completed  Jarvis  watched  his  friend  and 
customer  distribute  them  over  his  person  and  then  asked 
a  question. 

"Where  to  now,  Mr.  Boyd?" 

"Independence  and  westward,"  answered  the  other. 
"  Spring  is  upon  us,  the  prairie  grass  is  getting  longer  all 
the  time,  and  Independence  is  as  busy  and  crowded  as  an 
ant  hill.  All  kinds  of  people  are  coming  in  by  train  and 
river,  bound  for  the  trade  to  Santa  Fe  and  Chihuahua, 
and  for  far  away  Oregon."  His  eyes  shone  with  enthu- 
siasm. "  The  homesteaders  interest  me  the  most,  for  it  is 
to  them  that  we  will  owe  our  western  empire.  The 
trappers,  hunters,  and  traders  have  prepared  the  way, 
but  they  are  only  a  passing  phase.     The  first  two  will 


lo  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

vanish  and  in  their  places  the  homesteaders  will  take  root 
and  multiply.  Think  of  it,  Mr,  Jarvis,  now  our  frontiers 
are  only  halfway  across  the  continent;  what  an  empire 
that  will  some  day  become ! " 

Jarvis  nodded  thoughtfully  and  looked  up.  "What 
does  your  father  say  to  all  this,  especially  after  the  news 
last  fall  about  your  narrow  escape  in  Santa  Fe?" 

Boyd  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "Father  set  his  heart 
on  me  becoming  his  junior  partner,  and  to  passing  his 
work  over  to  me  when  he  was  ready  to  retire.  Two 
generations  of  surgeons,  is  his  boast ;  and  in  me  he  hoped 
to  make  it  three.  Against  that,  the  West  needs  men! 
Those  Oregon-bound  wagons  bring  tears  to  my  eyes. 
They  have  cast  my  die  for  me.  I  am  on  my  way  to  Fort 
Bridger  and  Fort  Hall  and  the  valley  of  the  Columbia,  to 
lend  my  strength  and  little  knowledge  of  the  open  to 
those  who  need  it  most." 

Jarvis  nodded  his  head  in  sympathy,  for  he  had  heard 
many  speak  nearly  the  same  thoughts;  indeed,  at  times, 
the  yearning  to  leave  behind  him  the  dim  old  shop  and 
the  noisy,  bustling  city  beset  him  strongly,  despite  his 
years  of  a  life  unfitting  him  for  the  hardships  of  the 
prairies  and  mountains.  Being  able  to  read  Greek  and 
Latin  was  no  asset  on  the  open  trail;  although  school- 
masters would  be  needed  in  that  new  country. 

"I  know  how  you  feel,  Mr.  Boyd.  Have  you  seen 
your  father  since  you  landed  ?  " 

Tom  reluctantly  shook  his  head.  "  It  would  only  re- 
open the  old  bitterness  and  lead  to  further  estrangement. 
No  man  shall  ever  speak  to  me  again  as  he  did  —  not 
even  him.  If  you  should  see  him,  Jarvis,  tell  him  I  asked 
you  to  assure  him  of  my  affection." 


HAWKENS'   GUN  STORE  ii 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  do  that,"  replied  the  clerk.  "  You 
missed  him  by  only  two  days.  He  asked  for  you  and 
wished  you  success,  and  said  your  home  was  open  to  you 
when  you  returned  to  resume  your  studies.  I  think,  in 
his  heart,  he  is  proud  of  you,  but  too  stubborn  to  admit 
it."  As  he  spoke  he  chanced  to  glance  through  the  win- 
dow of  the  store.  "  Don't  look  around,"  he  warned.  "  I 
want  to  tell  you  that  Schoolcraft  and  a  Mexican  just 
passed  the  shop,  peered  in  at  you  with  more  than  passing 
interest  and  went  on.    I  suppose  it's  nothing,  though." 

"  It's  enough  to  make  me  keep  my  eyes  open,"  replied 
Tom,  sighting  his  new  rifle  at  the  great  clock  on  the  wall, 
which  seemed  to  move  a  little  faster  under  the  threat.  '*  I 
thought  they  were  watching  me  on  the  boat.  Armijo's 
vindictive  enough  to  go  to  almost  any  length.  He  isn't 
accustomed  to  having  his  beast  face  slapped." 

Jarvis'  jaw  dropped  in  sheer  amazement.  "  You  mean 
—  do  I  understand  —  eh,  you  mean — you  slapped  his 
face?" 

"  So  hard  that  it  hurt  my  hand :  I'll  wager  his  teeth 
are  loose,"  replied  Tom,  his  interest  on  his  new  weapon. 

"Er  —  slapped  Governor  Armijo's  face?"  persisted 
Jarvis  from  the  momentum  of  his  amazement. 

"  The  Governor  of  the  Department  of  New  Mexico," 
replied  the  hunter. 

Jarvis  drew  a  sleeve  across  his  forehead  and  carefully 
felt  for  the  high  stool  behind  him.  Automatically  climb- 
ing upon  it  he  seated  himself  with  great  care  and  then, 
remembering  that  his  customer  was  standing,  slid  off  it 
apologetically.  He  was  gazing  at  his  companion  as 
though  he  were  some  strange,  curious  animal. 

"Eh  —  would  you  mind  telling  me  why?"  he  asked. 


12 "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

"  He  offended  me;  and  if  I'd  known  then  what  I  found 
out  later  I  would  have  broken  every  bone  in  his  pom- 
pous carcass  and  thrown  him  to  the  dogs ! ''  His  face 
had  reddened  a  little  and  the  veins  on  his  forehead  were 
beginning  to  stand  out. 

Jarvis  examined  the  clock  with  almost  hypnotic  in- 
terest. "And  how  did  he  offend  you,  Mr.  Boyd,  if  I 
may  inquire  ?  " 

"  Oh,  the  beast  came  swaggering  along  the  street,  fol- 
lowed at  a  respectful  distance  by  a  crowd  of  his  boot- 
lickers, and  pushed  me  out  of  his  way.  I  asked  him  who 
in  hell  he  thought  he  was,  in  choice  Spanish,  and  the  con- 
ceited turkey-gobbler  reached  for  his  saber.  The  more  I 
see  of  this  gun,  Jarvis,  the  more  I  like  it." 

"Yes,  indeed;  and  then  what,  Mr.  Boyd?" 

"Huh?" 

"He  reached  for  his  saber — and  then?" 

"Oh,"  laughed  Tom.  "I  helped  him  draw  it,  and 
broke  it  across  his  own  knee.  He  called  me  a  choice 
name  and  I  slapped  his  face.  You  should  have  seen  the 
boot-lickers !  Before  they  could  get  their  senses  back 
and  make  up  their  minds  about  rushing  my  pistol  I  had 
slipped  through  a  store,  out  of  the  back  and  into  a  place  I 
know  well,  where  I  waited  till  dark.  I  understand  there 
was  quite  a  lot  of  excitement  for  a  day  or  so." 

"I  dare  say — I  dare  say  there  might  have  been," 
admitted  Jarvis.  "In  fact,  I  am  sure  there  would  be. 
Damn  it,  Tom,  would  you  mind  shaking  hands  with  me?  " 


CHAPTER  II 

ABOARD    THE    MISSOURI   BELLE 

TOM  wended  his  way  to  the  levee  and  as  he  passed 
the  last  line  of  buildings  and  faced  the  great  slope 
leading  to  the  water's  edge  his  eyes  kindled.  Two  grace- 
ful stern-wheel  packets  were  moving  on  the  river,  the 
smaller  close  to  the  nearer  bank  on  her  way  home  from 
the  treacherous  Missouri;  the  larger,  curving  well  over 
toward  the  Illinois  shore,  was  heading  downstream  for 
New  Orleans.  Their  graceful  lines,  open  bow  decks  with 
the  great  derricks  supporting  the  huge  landing  stages, 
and  the  thick,  powerful  masts  on  each  edge  of  the  lower 
deck  toward  the  bow,  each  holding  up  the  great  spar  so 
necessary  for  Mississippi  river  navigation ;  the  tall  stacks 
with  the  initials  of  the  boat  against  a  lattice  work  be- 
tween; the  regular  spacing  of  windows  and  doors  in  the 
cabins,  and  the  clean  white  of  their  hulls  and  super- 
structure, rendered  more  vivid  by  contrast  with  the  tawny 
flood  on  all  sides  of  them,  made  a  striking  and  pic- 
turesque sight.  Each  had  a  curving  tail  of  boiling  brown 
water  behind,  and  a  bone  in  its  teeth.  These  river  boats 
were  modeled  on  trim  and  beautiful  lines  and  were  far 
from  being  crude,  frontier  makeshifts. 

Several  Mackinaw  boats  moved  anglingly  across  the 
current  from  the  other  shore,  and  a  keelboat  glided  down 
the  river  for  New  Orleans,  or  to  turn  up  the  Ohio 
for  Pittsburg,  helped  in  the  current  by  a  dirty,  square 

13 


14  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

sail.  The  little  twin-hulled  ferry  was  just  coming  in  from 
the  Illinois  shore,  its  catamaran  construction  giving  it  a 
safety  which  a  casual  observation  would  have  withheld. 
The  passengers  clung  to  its  rails  as  it  pitched  and  bobbed 
in  the  rolling  wake  of  the  south-bound  packet,  a  wake 
dreaded  by  all  small  craft  unfortunate  enough  to  pass 
the  slapping  paddle  at  too  close  a  distance,  for  the  follow- 
ing billows  were  high,  sharp,  and  close  together. 

On  the  great  levee  wagons  and  carts  rattled  and  rum- 
bled; drivers  shouted  and  swore  as  they  picked  their 
impatient  and  erratic  way  through  the  traffic;  lazy  ne- 
groes, momentarily  spurred  into  energetic  activity,  moved 
all  kinds  of  merchandise  between  the  boats  and  the  great 
piles  on  the  sloping  river  bank,  two  long  lines  of  them 
passing  each  other  on  the  bridging  gangplanks  reaching 
far  ashore.  Opposed  to  this  scene  of  labor  and  turmoil 
was  a  canoe  well  offshore,  whose  two  occupants,  drifting 
with  the  current,  lazily  fished  for  the  great  channel  cat- 
fish which  the  negro  population  loved  so  much. 

On  a  packet,  which  we  will  call  the  Missouri  Belle,  a 
whistle  blew  sharply  and  as  the  sound  died  away  several 
groups  of  passengers  hurried  across  the  levee,  scurrying 
about  like  panicky  bugs  when  a  log  is  rolled  over,  darting 
this  way  and  that  amid  the  careless  bustle  of  the  traffic, 
as  eager  to  reach  a  place  of  safety  as  are  chickens  af- 
frighted by  the  shadow  of  a  drifting  hawk.  The  crowd 
was  cosmopolitan  enough  to  suit  the  most  exacting  critic. 
Freighters,  merchants,  hunters,  trappers,  and  Indians 
returning  to  the  upper  trading  posts  or  to  their  own 
country;  gamblers;  a  frock-coated  minister  who  suspi- 
ciously regarded  every  box  and  barrel  and  bale  that  he 
saw  rolled  up  the  freight  gangplank,  and  who  was  a  per- 


ABOARD    THE   MISSOURI  BELLE         15 

son  of  great  interest  to  many  pairs  of  eyes  on  and  off  the 
boat ;  a  priest ;  a  voluble,  chattering  group  of  coureurs  des 
hois;  a  small  crowd  of  soldiers  going  up  to  Fort  Leaven- 
worth; emigrants,  boatmen,  and  travelers  made  up  the 
hurrying  procession  or  stood  at  the  rails  and  watched  the 
confusion  on  the  levee. 

Tom  joined  the  animated  stream,  swinging  in  behind 
an  elderly  gentleman  who  escorted  a  young  lady  of  un- 
flurried  demeanor  through  the  maelstrom  of  wagons, 
carts,  mules,  horses,  passengers,  and  heavily  laden  ne- 
groes. Caught  in  a  jam  and  forced  to  make  a  quick 
decision  and  to  follow  it  instantly,  the  young  lady 
dropped  her  glove  in  picking  up  her  skirts  and  a  nervous 
horse  was  about  to  stamp  it  into  the  dirt  and  dust  when 
Tom  leaped  forward.  Grasping  the  bridle  with  one  hand, 
he  bent  swiftly  and  reached  for  the  glove  with  the  other. 
As  he  was  about  to  grasp  it,  a  man  dressed  in  nondescript 
clothes  left  his  Mexican  companion  and  bent  forward  on 
the  other  side  of  the  horse,  his  lean,  brown  fingers 
eagerly  outstretched. 

Tom's  surprise  at  this  unexpected  interference  acted 
galvanically  and  his  hand,  turning  up  from  the  glove, 
grasped  the  thrusting  fingers  of  the  other  in  a  grip  which 
not  only  was  powerful  but  doubly  effective  by  its  unex- 
pectedness. He  swiftly  straightened  the  wrist  and  fore- 
arm of  his  rival  into  perfect  alignment  with  the  rest  of 
the  arm  and  then,  with  a  sudden  dropping  of  his  own 
elbow,  he  turned  the  other's  arm  throwing  all  his  strength 
and  weight  into  the  motion.  The  result  was  ludicrous. 
The  rival,  bent  forward,  his  other  hand  on  the  ground, 
had  to  give  way  in  a  hurry  or  have  his  arm  dislocated. 
His  right  foot  arose  swiftly  into  the  air  and  described  a 


i6 "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

short  arc  as  his  whole  body  followed  it;  and  quicker 
than  it  takes  to  tell  it  he  was  bridged  much  the  same  as  a 
wrestler,  his  arched  back  to  the  ground.  Tom  grinned 
sardonically  and  with  a  swift  jerk  yanked  his  adversary 
off  his  balance,  and  as  the  other  sprawled  grotesquely  in 
the  dust,  the  victor  of  the  little  tilt  picked  up  the  glove, 
leaped  nimbly  aside  and  looked  eagerly  around  for  its 
owner.  He  no  sooner  stood  erect  than  he  saw  her  with  a 
handkerchief  stuffed  in  her  mouth  and,  bowing  stiffly  and 
with  sober  face  he  gravely  presented  the  glove  to  her. 
She  had  waited,  despite  all  her  escort  could  do,  somewhat 
breathlessly  watching  the  rescue  and  the  short,  quick 
comedy  incidental  to  it;  and  now,  with  reddened  cheeks 
and  mischievous  eyes,  she  took  the  glove  and  murmured 
her  thanks.  The  elderly  gentleman,  grinning  from  ear  to 
ear,  raised  his  high  beaver,  thanked  the  plainsman,  and 
then  hurried  his  charge  onto  the  boat,  fearful  of  the  time 
lost. 

Tom  stood  in  his  tracks  staring  after  them,  hypnotized 
by  the  beauty  of  the  face  and  the  timbre  of  the  voice  of 
the  woman  whose  eyes  had  challenged  him  as  she  had 
turned  away. 

The  profane  remarks  of  the  wagon  driver,  the  more 
picturesque  remarks  of  others  drivers,  and  the  vociferous, 
white-toothed  delight  of  the  negroes  did  not  soothe 
Ephriam  Schoolcraft's  outraged  dignity  nor  help  to  cool 
his  anger,  and  he  arose  from  his  dust  bath  seeking  whom 
he  might  devour.  He  did  not  have  to  seek  far,  for  a  ne- 
gro's shouted  warning  reached  Tom  in  time  to  spin  him 
around  to  await  his  adversary.  The  plainsman  was  cool, 
imperturbable,  and  smiling  slightly  with  amusement. 

Schoolcraft  leaped   for  him  and  was  sent  spinning 


ABOARD    THE   MISSOURI  BELLE         17 

against  a  pile  of  freight.  As  he  recovered  his  balance  his 
hand  streaked  for  his  belt,  but  stopped  in  the  air  as  he 
gazed  down  the  barrel  of  the  new  Colt  snuggling  against 
the  hip  of  the  younger  man.  It  must  have  looked  espe- 
cially vicious  to  a  man  accustomed  to  a  single-shot  pistol, 
or  a  double-barreled  Derringer,  at  best. 

"That  was  no  killing  matter,"  said  Tom  quietly. 
"Don't  make  it  so,  and  don't  make  us  both  miss  that 
packet,  and  get  locked  up  in  a  St.  Louis  jail.  I'll  get  out 
again  quicker  than  you,  but  that  hardly  matters.  If  you're 
going  aboard,  go  ahead;  Tm  in  no  great  hurry."  Out  of 
the  corner  of  his  eye  he  was  watching  the  Mexican,  but 
found  nothing  threatening. 

Schoolcraft  glared  at  him,  allowed  a  hypocritical  smile 
to  mask  his  feelings,  bowed  politely,  and  walked  down 
the  levee,  the  Mexican  following  him,  and  Tom  bringing 
up  the  rear.  They  were  quickly  separated  by  the  bustle 
on  the  boat,  each  giving  his  immediate  attention  to  the 
preparations  necessary  for  his  comfort  during  the  voyage. 

A  second  blast  of  the  whistle  was  followed  by  the 
groaning  of  the  great  derrick  as  it  lifted  the  landing  stage 
and  swung  it  aboard;  lines  were  hauled  in  and  the  pas- 
sengers along  the  rails  waved  their  adieus  and  called  last 
minute  messages  to  those  they  were  leaving  behind.  It 
would  be  many  years  before  some  of  them  saw  their 
friends  again,  and  for  a  few  the  reunion  would  not  be  on 
this  earth.  A  bell  rang  aft  and  the  great  stern  paddle 
slapped  and  thrashed  noisily  as  it  bit  and  tore  at  the  yel- 
low water  beneath  it.  Showers  of  sparks,  incandescent 
as  they  left  the  towering  stacks,  fell  in  gray  flakes  on  the 
decks  and  the  river,  the  bluish  smoke  of  the  wood  fires 
trailing  straighter  and  straighter  astern  as  the   packet 


i8  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

rounded  into  the  boiling  current  and  pushed  upstream  at 
a  constantly  increasing  speed,  leaving  behind  her  the 
western  metropolis  on  the  left-hand  bank  and  a  strag- 
gling hamlet  on  the  other. 

Here  the  Mississippi  is  a  mighty  river,  approaching 
half  a  mile  in  width  between  its  limestone  banks;  deep, 
swift,  its  current  boiling  up  the  muddy  contribution  of 
the  great  Missouri,  as  if  eager  to  expose  the  infamy  of  its 
pollution  to  the  world.  But  whatever  it  lost  in  purity  by 
the  addition  of  the  muddy  water,  pouring  in  eighteen  miles 
above  the  city,  it  gained  in  greatness.  Other  large  rivers 
have  been  tamed  and  rendered  nearly  harmless,  but  these 
two  have  baffled  man's  labors  and  ingenuity,  and  finally 
the  contributing  stream  has  been  given  up  as  incorrigible. 

The  confusion  of  the  passengers  attending  to  their  bag- 
gage, places  at  table  and  their  sleeping  quarters  grew 
constantly  less  as  mile  followed  mile,  and  by  the  time  the 
Belle  swung  in  a  great,  westward  curve  to  leave  the 
Father  of  Waters  for  the  more  turbid  and  treacherous 
bosom  of  the  Big  Muddy,  many  were  eagerly  looking  for 
the  line  marking  the  joining  of  the  two  great  streams.  It 
was  plain  to  the  eye,  for  the  jutting  brown  flood  of  the 
Missouri,  dotted  with  great  masses  of  drift,  was  treated 
with  proper  suspicion  by  the  clearer  flood  of  the  nobler 
stream,  and  curved  far  out  into  the  latter  without  losing 
the  identity  of  its  outer  edge  for  some  distance  below. 


CHAPTER    III 


ARMIJO  S  STRONG  ARM 


PILOTING  on  the  Mississippi  was  tricky  enough, 
with  the  shifting  bars  and  the  deadly,  submerged 
logs,  stumps,  and  trees;  but  the  Missouri  was  in  a  class 
by  itself;  indeed,  at  various  stages  of  high  water  it 
seemed  hardly  to  know  its  own  channels  or,  in  some 
places,  even  its  own  bed.  It  threw  up  an  island  today  to 
remove  it  next  w^eek  or  ten  years  later,  and  cut  a  new 
channel  to  close  up  an  old  one  whenever  the  mood  suited. 
Gnawing  off  soft  clay  promontories  or  cutting  in  behind 
them  was  a  favorite  pastime ;  and  the  sand  and  clay  of  its 
banks  and  the  vast  expanses  of  its  bottoms  coaxed  it  into 
capricious  excursions  afield.  More  than  one  innocent 
and  unsuspecting  settler,  locating  what  he  considered  to 
be  a  reasonable  distance  from  its  shores  on  some  rich 
bottom,  found  his  particular  portion  of  the  earth's  sur- 
face under  the  river  or  on  its  further  bank  when  he 
returned  from  a  precipitate  and  entirely  willing  flight. 

There  were  two  tricks  used  on  the  river  to  get  out  of 
sandbar  difficulties  that  deserve  mention.  During  certain 
stages  of  the  river  it  for  some  reason  would  cross  over 
from  one  side  of  its  bed  to  the  other,  and  between  the  old 
and  the  new  deep  channels  would  be  a  space  of  considera- 
ble distance  crossed  by  the  water  where  there  was  no 
channel,  but  only  a  number  of  shallow  washes,  none  of 
which  perhaps  would  be  deep  enough  to  let  a  steamboat 

19 


20 ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

through.  The  deepest  would  be  selected,  and  if  only  two 
or  three  more  inches  of  water  were  needed,  the  boat  would 
be  run  up  as  far  as  it  could  go,  the  crew  would  fix  the 
two  great  spars  with  their  shoes  against  the  bottom, 
slanting  downstream,  set  the  steam  capstans  drawing  on 
their  ropes,  and  then  reverse  the  paddle  wheel.  The 
turning  of  the  great  wheel  would  force  water  under  the 
hull  while  the  spars  pushed  backward  and,  raising  a  plat- 
form of  water  around  her  and  taking  it  with  her,  she 
would  slide  over  the  shallow  place  and  go  on  about  her 
business. 

In  case  of  a  bar  where  there  were  no  submerged  banks 
to  hold  a  platform  of  water,  and  only  a  few  more  inches 
needed,  the  spars  would  be  used  as  before,  but  the  paddle 
wheel  would  remain  idle.  The  backward  thrust  of  the 
spars  would  force  the  boat  ahead,  while  their  lifting  mo- 
tion would  raise  it  a  little.  This  being  repeated  again  and 
again  would  eventually  "walk"  the  boat  across  and  into 
deeper  water  on  the  other  side.  It  was  a  slow  and  labo- 
rious operation  and  sometimes  took  a  day  or  two,  but  it 
was  preferable  to  lying  tied  to  the  bank  and  waiting  for  a 
rise,  often  a  matter  of  a  week  or  more. 

All  this  was  an  old  story  to  Tom,  who  now  was  on  his 
fifth  trip  up  the  river,  for  he  was  an  observant  young 
man  and  one  who  easily  became  acquainted  with  persons 
he  wished  to  know.  These  included  the  officers  and  pilots, 
who  took  to  the  upstanding  young  plainsman  at  first 
sight  and  gave  painstaking  answers  to  his  many  but  sen- 
sible questions.  In  consequence  his  knowledge  of  the 
river  was  wide  and  deep,  although  not  founded  on  prac- 
tical experience. 

Long  before  the  packet  turned  into  the  Missouri  he 


ARMIJO'S  STRONG  ARM  21 

had  his  affairs  attended  to  and  was  leaning  against  the 
rail  enjoying  the  shifting  panorama.  But  the  scenery  did 
not  take  all  of  his  attention,  for  he  was  keeping  a  watch 
for  a  certain  Mexican  trader  and  for  the  young  lady  of 
the  glove;  and  after  the  boat  had  rounded  into  the  Big 
Muddy,  he  caught  sight  of  the  more  interesting  of  the  two 
as  she  walked  forward  on  the  port  side  in  the  company 
of  her  escort.  Waiting  a  few  moments  to  see  if  they 
would  discover  him,  he  soon  gave  it  up  and  went  in 
search  of  the  purser,  who  seemed  to  know  about  everyone 
of  note  in  St.  Louis. 

"  Hello,  Tom,"  called  that  officer,  having  recovered  his 
breath  after  the  rush.  "Yo're  goin'  back  purty  quick, 
ain't  you?" 

"  Reckon  not.  One  night  an*  one  day  in  th*  city  was 
enough.  But  this  cussed  packet  is  near  as  lonesome.  I 
don't  know  a  passenger  on  board." 

**  I  can  fix  that,"  laughed  the  purser.  "  I  know  about 
three-quarters  of  'em,  an'  can  guess  at  th'  rest.  I  counted 
seven  professional  gamblers  comin'  up  th'  plank.  They'll 
be  in  each  other's  way.  You  feelin'  like  some  excite- 
ment ?  " 

*'  Not  with  any  of  them,"  answered  Tom,  grinning.  "  I 
can  count  seven  times  seven  of  them  fellers  in  Independ- 
ence; an'  I  hear  some  of  'em  are  plannin'  to  join  up 
with  th'  next  outgoing  train." 

"  Well,"  mused  the  purser.  His  face  cleared.  "There's 
that  sneakin'  minister.  Havin'  looked  in  everythin'  but 
our  mouths,  he'll  mebby  have  time  to  convert  a  sinner. 
How  'bout  him?" 

"  Don't  hardly  think  he  can  do  much  with  me,"  mut- 
tered Tom.     He  considered  a  moment  and  tried  to  hide 


22^ ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

his  grin.  "  Now  I  noticed  an  elderly  old  gentleman  with 
a  young  lady,  gettin'  aboard  jest  before  I  did.  They  was 
leavin'  you  when  I  showed  up.    Happen  to  know  'em  ?  " 

**  You  shouldn't  'a'  give  back  th'  glove  when  you  did," 
laughed  the  officer.  "You  should  'a'  had  yore  quarrel 
with  Schoolcraft  first,  so  you  could  'a'  waited  till  we  was 
under  way  before  you  handed  it  back  to  her.  That 
would  'a'  give  you  a  better  chance  to  get  acquainted. 
I've  heard  that  frontierin'  sharpens  a  man's  wits,  but  I 
dunno.  Want  to  meet  'em?  Th'  old  sport's  interesting 
when  he  ain't  tryin'  to  beat  th'  gamblers  at  their  own 
game.  An'  he's  plumb  successful  at  it,  too,  if  there  ain't 
too  many  ag'in  him." 

Tom  had  the  grace  to  flush  under  his  tan,  but  he  thank- 
fully accepted  the  bantering  and  the  suggestion.  "  What 
you  suppose  I've  risked  wastin'  my  time  talkin'  to  you 
for?"  he  demanded. 

"You  know  cussed  well  you  wasn't  wastin'  it,"  re- 
torted the  purser.  "  Come  on,  an'  meet  one  of  th'  finest 
young  ladies  in  St.  Louis.  She  won't  care  if  you  pay 
more  attention  to  her  uncle." 

A  few  minutes  later  Tom  had  been  made  acquainted 
with  the  couple  and  they  soon  discovered  that  they  had 
mutual  friends  in  the  city.  Time  passed  rapidly  and 
Patience  Cooper  and  her  uncle,  Joseph,  took  a  keen  in- 
terest in  their  companion's  account  of  life  on  the  prairies. 
He  found  that  the  uncle  was  engaged  in  the  overland 
trade  and  was  going  out  to  Independence  to  complete  ar- 
rangements for  the  starting  of  his  wagons  with  the  Santa 
Fe  caravan.  Finding  that  they  were  to  be  seated  at  dif- 
ferent tables  they  had  the  obliging  steward  change  their 
places  so  they  could  be  together,  and  after  the  meal  the 


ARMIJO'S  STRONG  ARM  23 

uncle  begged  to  be  excused  and  headed  for  the  card  room, 
which  brought  a  fleeting  frown  to  the  face  of  his  niece. 
Tom  observed  it  without  appearing  to  and  led  the  way  to 
some  chairs  on  deck  near  the  rail. 

The  blast  of  the  whistle  apprised  them  of  a  landing  in 
sight  and  soon  they  picked  it  out,  as  much  by  the  great 
piles  of  firewood  as  by  any  other  sign.  This  was  the 
little  hamlet  of  St.  Charles,  and  here  came  on  board  sev- 
eral plainsmen  and  voyageurs  who,  having  missed  the 
packet  at  St.  Louis,  had  hastened  across  the  neck  of  land 
to  board  it  here.  As  soon  as  the  gangplank  touched  the 
bank  a  hurrying  line  of  men  depleted  the  great  wood  pile, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  the  landing  stage  swung  aboard 
again  and  the  Missouri  Belle  circled  out  into  mid-channel, 
a  stream  of  sparks  falling  astern. 

An  annoying  wind  had  been  blowing  when  they  left  the 
parent  stream,  annoying  in  a  way  a  stranger  to  the  river 
never  would  have  dreamed.  There  being  no  permanence 
to  the  channels,  no  fixity  to  the  numerous  bars,  no  accu- 
rate knowledge  covering  the  additions  to  the  terrible, 
destroying  snags  lurking  under  the  surface,  the  pilot  lit- 
erally had  to  read  his  way  every  yard  and  to  read  it  anew 
every  trip.  All  he  had  to  go  by  was  the  surface  of  the 
water,  and  it  told  him  a  true  tale  as  long  as  it  was  rea- 
sonably placid.  From  his  high  elevation  he  looked  down 
into  the  river  and  learned  from  it  where  the  channel  lay; 
and  from  arrow-head  ripples  and  little,  rolling  wavelets, 
where  the  snags  were,  for  every  one  close  enough  to  the 
surface  to  merit  attention  was  revealed  by  the  telltale 
"break"  on  the  water.  Let  a  moderate  wind  blow  and 
his  task  became  harder  and  more  of  a  gamble;  but  even 
then,  knowing  that  the  waves  run  higher  over  deeper 


24 "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

water,  he  still  could  go  ahead;  but  above  a  certain 
strength  the  wind  not  only  baffled  his  reading,  but  gave 
such  a  sidewise  drift  to  the  shallow-draft,  high-riding 
vessel  that  he  could  not  hope  to  take  it  safely  through 
some  of  the  narrower  channels.  Rain  or  hail,  which 
turned  the  surface  into  a  uniform  area  of  disturbance, 
instantly  closed  his  book ;  and  in  this  event  he  had  no  re- 
course except  to  lie  snugly  moored  to  the  south  bank  and 
wait  until  the  weather  conditions  changed.  Sometimes 
these  waits  were  for  a  few  hours,  sometimes  for  a  day  or 
more;  and  when  the  persistent  southwest  prairie  gales 
blew  day  and  night,  moving  great  clouds  of  sand  with 
them,  the  boat  remained  a  prisoner  until  they  ceased  or 
abated. 

There  was  good  reason  for  choosing  that  south  bank, 
for  the  stronger  winds  almost  invariably  came  from  that 
direction  during  the  navigation  season,  and  the  bank  gave 
a  pleasing  protection.  While  lying  moored,  idleness  in 
progress  did  not  mean  idleness  all  around,  for  the  boilers 
ate  up  great  quantities  of  wood,  and  in  many  cases  the 
fuel  yards  were  the  growing  trees  and  windfalls  on  the 
banks.  Once  the  boat  was  moored  the  crew  leaped 
ashore  and  became  wood-choppers,  filling  the  fuel  boxes 
and  stacking  the  remainder  on  shore  for  future  use.  In 
a  pinch  green  cottonwood  sometimes  had  to  be  used,  but 
it  could  be  burned  only  by  adding  pitch  or  resin. 

Nowhere  on  the  river  was  a  navigation  mark,  for 
nowhere  was  the  channel  permanent  enough  to  allow  one 
to  be  placed.  It  was  primitive,  pioneer  navigation  with  a 
vengeance,  requiring  intelligent,  sober,  quickwitted  and 
courageous  men  to  handle  the  boats.  On  the  Missouri 
the  word  "pilot"  was  a  term  of  distinction. 


ARMIJO'S  STRONG  ARM  25 

The  river  was  high  at  this  time  of  the  year,  caused  less 
by  the  excessive  rains  and  melting  snows  in  the  moun- 
tains, being  a  little  early  for  them,  than  by  the  rains  along 
the  immediate  valley;  bottom  lands  were  flooded,  giving 
the  stream  a  width  remarkable  in  places  and  adding 
greatly  to  the  amount  of  drift  going  down  with  the  cur- 
rent. 

The  afternoon  waned  and  the  wind  died,  the  latter 
responsible  for  the  pilot's  good  nature,  and  the  shadows 
of  evening  grew  longer  and  longer  until  they  died,  seem- 
ing to  expand  into  a  tenuity  which  automatically  effaced 
them.  But  sundown  was  not  mooring  time,  for  the  twi- 
light along  the  river  often  lasted  until  nine  o'clock,  and 
not  a  minute  was  wasted. 

When  St.  Charles  had  been  left  astern  Tom  had  led 
his  companion  up  onto  the  hurricane  deck  and  placed  two 
chairs  against  the  pilot  house  just  forward  of  the  texas, 
where  the  officers  had  their  quarters.  The  water  was 
now  smooth,  barring  the  myriads  of  whirling,  boiling 
eddies,  and  from  their  elevated  position  they  could  see  the 
configuration  of  the  submerged  bars.  The  afterglow  in 
the  sky  turned  the  mud-colored  water  into  a  golden 
sheen,  and  the  wind-distorted  trees  on  the  higher  banks 
and  ridges  were  weirdly  silhouetted  against  the  colored 
sky.  Gone  was  the  drab  ugliness.  The  finely  lined 
branches  of  the  distant  trees,  the  full  bulks  of  the  pines 
and  cedars  and  the  towering  cottonwoods,  standing  out 
against  the  greenery  of  grass  covered  hills,  provided  a 
soft  beauty ;  while  closer  to  the  boat  and  astern  where  sky 
reflections  were  not  seen,  the  great,  tawny  river  slipped 
past  with  a  powerful,  compelling,  and  yet  furtive  sugges- 
tion of  mystery,  as  well  it  might. 


26  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

Tom  was  telling  of  the  characteristics  of  the  river 
when  the  boat  veered  sharply  and  caused  him  to  glance 
ahead.  A  great,  tumultuous  ripple  tore  the  surface  of 
the  water,  subsided  somewhat  and  boiled  anew,  the 
wavelets  gold  and  crimson  and  steel  blue  against  the  uni- 
form lavender  shade  around  them.  The  many-fanged 
snag  barely  had  been  avoided  as  it  reached  the  upward 
limit  of  its  rhythmic  rising  and  falling. 

Soon  a  bell  rang  below  and  the  boat  slowed  as  it 
headed  in  toward  a  high,  wooded  bank.  Nudging  gently 
against  it  the  packet  stopped,  men  hurried  lines  ashore, 
made  them  fast  to  the  trees  and  then  set  a  spring  line, 
which  ran  from  the  stern  forward  to  the  bank  ahead  of 
the  bow,  so  as  to  hold  the  boat  offshore  far  enough  to 
keep  it  afloat  in  case  the  river  should  fall  appreciably 
during  the  night.  The  pilot  emerged  behind  them, 
glanced  down  at  the  captain  overseeing  the  mooring  oper- 
ations, and  then  spoke  to  Tom,  who  made  him  acquainted 
with  Patience  and  invited  him  to  join  them.  He  gladly 
accepted  the  invitation  and  soon  had  interested  listeners 
to  his  store  of  knowledge  about  the  river.  Darkness  now 
had  descended  and  he  pointed  at  the  stream. 

"  There's  somethin'  peculiar  to  th'  Missouri,''  he  said. 
"Notice  th'  glow  of  th'  water,  several  shades  lighter  than 
th'  darkness  on  th'  bank?  On  the  Mississippi,  now,  th' 
water  after  dark  only  makes  th'  night  all  th'  blacker;  but 
on  this  stream  th'  surface  can  be  seen  pretty  plain,  though 
not  far  ahead.  We  take  full  advantage  of  that  when  we 
have  to  sail  after  dark.  We  would  be  goin'  on  now, 
except  that  we  got  news  of  a  new  and  very  bad  place  a 
little  further  on,  an'  we'd  rather  tackle  it  when  we  can  see 
good." 


ARMIJO'S  STRONG  ARM  27 

"Oh/*  murmured  Patience.  "A  ghost  road  leading 
through  a  void." 

A  long,  dark  shape  appeared  on  the  "  ghost  road "  and 
bore  silently  and  swiftly  down  upon  the  boat,  struck  the 
hull  a  glancing  blow,  scraped  noisily,  ducked  under, 
turned  partly  and  scurried  off  astern.  It  was  a  trimmed 
tree  trunk,  and  by  its  lowness  in  the  water  it  told  of  a 
journey  nearly  ended.  Before  long  one  end  would  sink- 
deeper  and  deeper,  finally  fastening  in  the  alluvial  bot- 
tom and,  anchoring  securely,  lie  in  wait  to  play  battering 
ram  against  some  ill-fated  craft  surging  boldly  against 
the  current. 

The  lanterns  on  shore  began  to  move  boatward  as  the 
last  of  the  wooding  was  finished  and  the  fuel  boxes  again 
were  full.  Farther  back  among  the  trees  some  trappers 
had  started  a  fire  and  were  enjoying  themselves  around 
it,  their  growing  hilarity  and  noise  suggesting  a  bottle 
being  passed  too  often.  Gradually  the  boat  became  quiet 
and  after  another  smoke  the  pilot  arose  and  excused  him- 
self, saying  that  it  was  expected  that  the  journey  would 
be  resumed  between  three  and  four  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing. 

"  How  long  will  it  take  •  us  to  reach  Independence 
Landing?"  asked  Patience. 

The  pilot  shook  his  head.  "That  depends  on  wind, 
water,  and  th'  strength  of  th'  current,  though  th*  last 
don't  make  very  much  difference  sometimes." 

Tom  looked  up  inquiringly.  "  I  don't  just  understand 
th'  last  part,"  he  confessed.  "Mebby  I  didn't  hear  it 
right." 

"  Yes,  you  did,"  replied  the  pilot,  grinning  in  the  dark- 
ness.    "When  she's  high  she's  swift;   but  she's  also  a 


28  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS 


hull  lot  straighter.  Th'  bends  of  this  river  are  famous, 
an'  they  add  a  lot  of  miles  to  her  length.  They  also  cut 
down  th'  slant  of  her  surface,  which  cuts  down  th' 
strength  of  th'  current.  At  lower  water  we'd  have  a 
longer  distance  to  sail,  but  a  gentler  current.  When  she 
rises  like  she  is  now  she  cuts  off,  over  or  behind  a  lot  of 
th'  bends  an'  makes  herself  a  straighter  road.  An'  th' 
shorter  she  gits,  th'  steeper  her  pitch  grows,  which  makes 
a  stronger  current.  She  jest  reg'lates  herself  accordin' 
to  her  needs,  an'  she  gits  shet  of  her  floods  about  as  quick 
as  any  river  on  earth.  Oh,  I  tell  you,  she's  a  cute  one; 
an'  a  mean  one,  too!" 

"  She's  shore  movin'  fast  enough  now,"  observed 
Tom,  watching  the  hurtling  driftwood  going  spectrally 
down  the  almost  luminous  surface.  "  How  long  will  this 
high  water  last,  anyhow  ?  " 

"Considerable  less  than  th'  June  rise,"  answered  the 
pilot.  "  She's  fallin'  now,  which  is  one  of  th'  reasons 
we're  tied  to  th'  bank  instid  of  goin'  on  all  night.  This 
here  rise  is  short,  but  meaner  than  sin.  Th'  June  rise  is 
slower  an'  not  so  bad,  though  it  lasts  longer.  It  comes 
from  th'  rains  an'  meltin'  snow  in  th'  mountains  up 
above.  Down  here  th'  current  ain't  as  swift  as  it  is 
further  up,  for  this  slope  is  somethin'  less  than  a  foot  to 
th'  mile ;  but  if  it  warn't  for  th'  big  bottoms,  that  let  some 
of  th'  water  wander  around  awhile  instid  of  crowdin' 
along  all  at  once,  we'd  have  a  current  that'd  surprise  you. 
Jest  now  I  figger  she's  steppin'  along  about  seven  miles 
an  hour.  Durin'  low  water  it's  some'rs  around  two ;  but 
I've  seen  it  nearer  ten  on  some  rises.  There  are  places 
where  steamboats  can't  beat  th'  current  an'  have  to  kedge 
up  or  wait  for  lower  water.    About  gittin'  to  Independ- 


ARMIJO'S  STRONG  ARM  29 

ence  Landin',  or  what's  left  of  it,  I'll  tell  you  that  when 
we  pass  Liberty  Landin'.  Miles  through  th'  water  ain't 
miles  over  th'  bottom,  an'  it's  th'  last  that  counts.  Be- 
sides, th'  weather  has  got  a  lot  to  say  about  our  business. 
I  hope  you  ain't  gittin'  chilled.  Miss  Cooper,  this  spring 
air  cuts  in  amazin'  after  sundown." 

"I  am  beginning  to  feel  it,"  she  replied,  arising,  ''  I'll 
say  good  night,  I  believe,  and  '  turn  in.' " 

Tom  escorted  her  to  the  lower  deck  and  watched  her 
cross  the  cabin  and  enter  her  room,  for  he  had  no  illu- 
sions about  some  of  the  men  on  board.  As  her  door 
closed  he  wheeled  and  went  to  look  at  the  engines,  which 
were  connected  directly  to  the  huge  paddle  wheel.  The 
engineer  was  getting  ready  to  climb  into  his  bunk,  but  he 
smoked  a  pipe  with  his  visitor  and  chatted  for  a  few  min- 
utes. Tom  knew  what  it  meant  to  be  an  engineer  on  a' 
Missouri  river  packet  and  he  did  not  stay  long.  He  knew 
that  his  host  scarcely  took  his  hand  from  the  throttle  for 
a  moment  while  the  boat  was  moving,  for  he  had  to  be 
ready  to  check  her  instantly  and  send  her  full  speed 
astern.  The  over-worked  system  of  communication  be- 
tween the  pilot  house  and  the  engine  room  had  received 
its  share  of  his  attention  during  his  runs  on  the  river. 

He  next  went  forward  along  the  main  deck  and  looked 
at  the  boilers,  the  heat  from  them  distinctly  pleasing.  As 
he  turned  away  he  heard  and  felt  the  impact  from  an- 
other great,  trimmed  log  slipping  along  the  faint,  gray 
highway.  Some  careless  woodcutter  upstream  had 
worked  in  vain.  He  stopped  against  the  rail  and  looked 
at  the  scurrying  water  only  a  few  feet  below  him,  listen- 
ing to  its  swishing,  burbling  complaints  as  it  eddied  along 
the  hull,  seeming  in  the  darkness  to  have  a  speed  incredi- 


•30  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

ble.  A  huge  cottonwood  with  its  upflung  branches  and 
sunken  roots  paused  momentarily  as  it  struck  a  shallow 
spot,  shivered,  lost  a  snapping  dead  limb,  collected  a  sur- 
prising amount  of  debris  as  it  swung  slowly  around  and 
tore  free  from  the  clutching  mud  of  the  bottom  and,  once 
more  acquiring  momentum,  shot  out  of  sight  into  the 
night,  its  slowly  rising  branches  telling  of  the  heavy  roots 
sinking  to  their  proper  depth.  Next  came  a  tree  stump 
like  some  huge  squid,  which  must  have  been  well  dried  out 
and  not  in  the  water  for  very  long,  else  it  would  have 
found  the  bottom  before  this.  Then  a  broken  and  water- 
logged keelboat,  fully  twenty-five  feet  long,  scurried  past, 
a  great  menace  to  every  boat  afloat.  Planks,  rails  from 
some  pasture  fence,  a  lean-to  outhouse,  badly  smashed, 
and  a  great  mass  of  reeds  and  brush  came  along  like  a 
floating  island.  The  constantly  changing  procession  and 
the  gray  water  fascinated  him  and  he  fairly  had  to  tear 
himself  away  from  it.  Strange  splashings  along  the  bank 
told  him  of  undermined  portions  of  it  tumbling  into  the 
river,  and  a  louder  splash  marked  the  falling  of  some 
tree  not  far  above. 

"  She's  talkin'  a-plenty  tonight,'*  said  a  rough  voice  be- 
hind him  and  he  turned,  barely  able  to  make  out  a  figure 
dressed  much  the  same  as  he  was ;  but  he  did  not  see  an- 
other figure,  in  Mexican  garb,  standing  in  the  blackness 
against  a  partition  and  watching  him.  The  speaker  con- 
tinued. "  More  gentle,  this  hyar  trip ;  ye  should  'a'  heard 
her  pow-wowin'  th'  last  run  up.  I  say  she's  wicked  an' 
cruel  as  airy  Injun;  an'  nothin'  stops  her." 

"I  can't  hardly  keep  away  from  her,"  replied  Tom, 
easily  dropping  into  the  language  of  the  other;  "but  I 
ain't  likin'  her  a  hull  lot.    A  hard  trail  suits  me  better." 


ARMIJO'S  STRONG  ARM  31 

"Now  yer  plumb  shoutin'/'  agreed  the  other.  "If 
'twarn't  fer  goin'  ashore  every  night,  up  in  th'  game 
country,  I  don't  reckon  I'd  want  ter  see  another  steam- 
boat fer  th'  rest  o'  my  days.  Everythin'  about  'em  is  too 
onsartin." 

Tom  nodded,  understanding  that  his  companion  was  a 
hunter  employed  by  the  steamboat  company  to  supply  the 
boat's  table  with  fresh  meat.  After  the  game  country, 
which  really  meant  the  buffalo  range,  was  reached  this 
man  went  ashore  almost  every  night  and  hunted  until 
dawn  or  later,  always  keeping  ahead  of  the  boat's  mooring 
and  within  sight  of  the  river  after  daybreak.  Whatever 
he  shot  he  dragged  to  some  easily  seen  spot  on  the  bank 
for  the  yawl  to  pick  up,  and  when  the  steamboat  finally 
overtook  him  he  went  aboard  by  the  same  means.  His 
occupation  was  hazardous  at  all  times  because  of  the  hos- 
tility of  the  Indians,  some  few  of  which,  even  when  their 
tribes  were  quiet  and  inclined  to  be  friendly  for  trade 
purposes,  would  not  refuse  a  safe  opportunity  to  add  a 
white  man's  scalp  to  their  collection.  The  tribes  along  the 
lower  sections  of  the  river  were  safer,  but  once  in  the 
country  of  the  Pawnees  and  Sioux,  where  his  hunting 
really  began,  it  was  a  far  different  matter.  He  did  not 
have  much  of  the  dangerous  country  to  hunt  in  because 
the  Belle  did  not  go  far  enough  up  the  river;  but  the 
hunters  on  the  fur  company's  boats  went  through  the 
worst  of  it. 

"Goin'  out  this  spring?"  asked  the  hunter. 

"Yep;  Oregon,  this  time,"  answered  Tom.  "My  scalp 
ain't  safe  in  Santa  Fe  no  more.    Been  thar  ?  " 

"  Santa  Fe,  yep ;  Oregon,  no.  Went  to  N'Mexico  in 
'31,  an'  we  got  our  fust  buffaler  jest  tother  side  o'  Cot- 


32  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

tonwood  Creek.  It  war  a  tough  ol'  bull.  Bet  ye  won't 
git  one  thar  no  more.  We  forded  th'  Arkansas  at  th' 
lower  crossin'  an'  foUered  th'  dry  route.  Hear  thar's  a 
track  acrost  it  now,  but  thar  warn't  any  then.  Don't  like 
that  stretch,  nohow.  Longest  way  'round  is  th'  best  fer 
this  critter.  Ye  got  Bent's  Fort  handy  ter  bust  up  th'  trip, 
git  supplies  an'  likker;  an'  I'd  ruther  tackle  Raton  Pass, 
mean  as  it  is,  than  cross  that  cussed  dry  plain  atween  th' 
Crossin'  an'  th'  Cimarron.  I'd  ruther  have  water  than 
empty  casks,  airy  time;  an'  fur's  th'  Injuns  air  consarned, 
'twon't  be  long  afore  ye'll  have  ter  fight  'em  all  th'  way 
from  th'  frontier  ter  th'  Mexican  settlements.  They'll  be 
gittin'  wuss  every  year." 

"Yer  talkin'  good  medicine,"  replied  Tom,  thought- 
fully. "  'Twon't  be  safe  fer  any  caravan  ter  run  inter  one 
o'  them  war  parties.  Thar  cussin'  th'  whites  a'ready,  an' 
thar  bound  ter  jine  ban's  ag'in  us  when  th'  buffaler  git 
scarce." 

The  hunter  slapped  his  thigh  and  laughed  uproariously. 
"  Cussed  if  that  ain't  a  good  un !  Why,  th'  man  ain't  alive 
that'll  live  ter  see  that  day.  They  won't  git  scarce  till 
Kansas  is  settled  solid,  an'  then  there'll  have  ter  be  a 
bounty  put  on  'em  ter  save  th'  settlers'  crops.  Why, 
thar's  miles  o'  'em,  pardner ! " 

"  I've  seen  miles  o'  'em,"  admitted  Tom ;  "  but  they'll 
go,  an'  when  they  once  start  ter,  they'll  go  so  fast  that  a 
few  years  will  see  'em  plumb  wiped  out." 

"  Shucks ! "  replied  the  hunter.  ''  Why,  th'  wust  ene- 
mies they  got  is  th'  Injuns  an'  th'  wolves.  Both  o'  them 
will  go  fust,  an'  th'  buffalers'll  git  thicker  an'  thicker." 

''  We  are  thar  worst  enemies ! "  retorted  Tom  with 
spirit.     "Th'  few  th'  Injuns  kill  don't  matter  — if  it  did 


ARMIJO'S  STRONG  ARM  3^ 

they'd  'a'  been  gone  long  ago.  They  only  kill  fer  food 
an'  clothin';  but  we  kill  fer  sport  an'  profit.  Every  year 
that  passes  sees  more  whites  on  th'  buffaler  ranges  an' 
more  hides  comin'  in  ter  th'  settlements;  an'  most  of 
them  hides  come  from  th'  cows.  Look  at  th'  beaver, 
man !  Thar  goin'  so  fast  that  in  a  few  years  thar  won't  be 
none  left.  Thar's  only  one  thing  that'll  save  'em,  an' 
that's  a  change  in  hats.  Killin'  fer  sport  is  bad  enough, 
but  when  th'  killin'  is  fer  profit  th'  end's  shore  in  sight. 
What  do  we  do  ?  We  cut  out  th'  buffaler  tongues  an'  a 
few  choice  bits  an'  leave  th'  rest  for  th'  wolves.  Th' 
Injuns  leave  nothin'  but  th'  bones.  Why,  last  trip  acrost 
I  saw  one  man  come  inter  camp  with  sixteen  tongues. 
He  never  even  bothered  with  th'  hump  ribs !  I  told  him 
if  he  done  it  ag'in  an'  I  saw  him,  I'd  bust  his  back;  an' 
th'  hull  caravan  roared  at  th'  joke!** 

"  Danged  if  it  warn't  a  good  un,"  admitted  the  hunter, 
chuckling.  "  Have  ter  spring  that  on  th'  boys."  He 
turned  and  looked  around.  "Them  fellers  on  th'  bank 
air  shore  havin'  a  good  time.  They  got  likker  enough, 
anyhow.  Cussed  if  it  don't  sound  like  a  rendezvous! 
Come  on,  friend :  what  ye  say  we  jine  'em  ?  It's  too  early 
to  roll  up,  an'  thar's  only  card  buzzards  in  th'  cabin  a-try- 
in'  ter  pick  th'  bones  o'  a  merchant." 

"  We  might  do  wuss  nor  that,"  replied  Tom ;  "  but  I 
don't  reckon  I'll  go  ashore  tonight." 

"  Wall,  if  ye  change  yer  mind  ye  know  th'  trail.  I'm 
leavin'  ye  now,  afore  th'  bottles  air  all  empty,"  and  the 
hunter  crossed  the  deck  and  strode  down  the  gangplank. 

Tom  watched  the  hurrying,  complaining  water  for  a 
few  moments  and  then  turned  to  go  to  the  cabin.  As  he 
did  so  something  whizzed  past  him  and  struck  the  water 


34  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

with  a  hiss.  Whirling,  he  leaped  into  the  shadows  under 
the  second  deck,  the  new  Colt  in  his  hand;  but  after  a 
hot,  eager  search  he  had  to  give  it  up,  and  hasten  to  the 
cabin,  to  peer  searchingly  around  it  from  the  door.  The 
only  enemy  he  had  on  board  to  his  knowledge  was 
Schoolcraft  —  and  then  another  thought  came  to  him: 
was  Armijo  reaching  out  his  arm  across  the  prairies? 

Joe  Cooper  was  intent  on  his  game;  Schoolcraft  and 
the  Mexican  trader  were  taking  things  easy  at  a  table  in 
a  corner,  and  both  had  their  knives  at  their  belts.  They 
did  not  give  him  more  than  a  passing  glance,  although 
a  frown  crept  across  the  Independence  horse-dealer's 
evil  face.  Seating  himself  where  he  could  watch  all  the 
doors,  Tom  tried  to  solve  the  riddle  while  he  waited  to 
scrutinize  anyone  entering  the  cabin.  At  last  he  gave  up 
the  attempt  to  unravel  the  mystery  and  turned  his  atten- 
tion to  the  card  game,  and  was  surprised  to  see  that  it 
was  being  played  with  all  the  safeguards  of  an  established 
gambling  house.  Having  a  friend  in  the  game  he  watched 
the  dealer  and  the  case-keeper,  but  discovered  nothing  to 
repay  him  for  his  scrutiny.  An  hour  later  the  game  broke 
up  and  Joe  Cooper,  cashing  in  his  moderate  winnings, 
arose  and  joined  Tom  and  suggested  a  turn  about  the 
deck  before  retiring.  Tom  caught  a  furtive  exchange  of 
fleeting  and  ironical  glances  between  the  case-keeper  and 
the  dealer,  but  thought  little  of  it.  He  shrugged  his 
shoulders  and  followed  his  new  friend  toward  the  door. 

Ephriam  Schoolcraft,  somewhat  the  worse  for  liquor, 
made  a  slighting  remark  as  the  two  left  the  cabin,  but  it 
was  so  well  disguised  that  it  provided  no  real  peg  on 
which  to  hang  a  quarrel;  and  Tom  kept  on  toward  the 
deck,  the  horse-dealer's  nasty  laugh  ringing  in  his  ears. 


ARMIJO'S  STRONG   ARM  35 

He  could  see  where  he  was  going  to  have  trouble,  but  he 
hoped  it  would  wait  until  Independence  was  reached,  for 
always  there  were  the  makings  of  numerous  quarrels  on 
board  under  even  the  best  of  conditions,  and  he  deter- 
mined to  overlook  a  great  deal  before  starting  one  on  his 
own  account.  It  was  his  wish  that  nothing  should  mar 
the  pleasure  of  the  trip  up  the  river  for  Patience  Cooper. 

He  and  his  companion  stopped  in  the  bow  and  looked 
at  the  merry  camp  on  shore,  both  sensing  an  undertone  of 
trouble.  Give  the  vile,  frontier  liquor  time  to  work  in 
such  men  and  anything  might  be  the  outcome. 

He  put  his  lips  close  to  his  companion's  ear :  "  Mr. 
Cooper,  did  you  notice  anyone  hu^ry  into  the  cabin  just 
before  I  came  in?  Anyone  who  seemed  excited  and  in  a 
hurry?'* 

Cooper  considered  a  moment :  "  No,"  he  replied.  "  I 
would  have  seen  any  such  person.     Something  wrong?" 

"Schoolcraft,  now;  and  that  Mexican  friend  of  his," 
prompted  Tom.  "Did  they  leave  the  cabin  before  you 
saw  me  come  in?" 

"  No ;  they  both  were  where  you  saw  them  for  an  hour 
or  two  before  you  showed  up.  I'm  dead  certain  of  that 
because  of  the  interest  Schoolcraft  seemed  to  be  taking 
in  me.  I  don't  know  why  he  should  single  me  out  for  his 
attentions,  for  he  don't  look  like  a  gambler.  I  never  saw 
him  before  that  little  fracas  you  had  with  him  on  the 
levee.     Something  up  ?  " 

"  No,"  slowly  answered  Tom.  "  I  was  just  wondering 
about  something." 

"Nope;  he  was  there  all  the  time,"  the  merchant 
assured  him.  "  Seems  to  me  I  heard  about  some  trouble 
you  had  in  Santa  Fe  last  year.    Anything  serious?" 


36  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

**  Nothing  more  than  a  personal  quarrel.  I  happened 
to  get  there  after  they  had  started  McLeod's  Texans  on 
the  way  to  Mexico  City,  and  learned  that  they  had  been 
captured."  He  clenched  his  fists  and  scowled  into  the 
night.  "  One  of  the  pleasant  things  I  learned  from  a  man 
who  saw  it,  was  the  execution  of  Baker  and  Rowland. 
Both  shot  in  the  back.  Baker  was  not  killed,  so  a  Mexi- 
can stepped  up  and  shot  him  through  the  heart  as  he  lay 
writhing  on  the  ground.  The  dogs  tore  their  bodies  to 
pieces  that  night."  He  gripped  the  railing  until  the  blood 
threatened  to  burst  from  his  finger  tips.  "  I  learned  the 
rest  of  it,  and  the  worst,  a  long  time  later." 

Cooper  turned  and  stared  at  him.  "Why,  man,  that 
was  in  October !  Late  in  October !  How  could  you  have 
been  there  at  that  time,  and  here,  in  this  part  of  the  coun- 
try, now  ?  You  couldn't  cross  the  prairies  that  late  in  the 
year ! " 

''No;  I  wintered  at  Bent's  Fort,"  replied  Tom.  "I 
hadn't  been  in  Independence  a  week  before  I  took  the 
boat  down  to  St.  Louis,  where  you  first  saw  me.  There 
were  four  of  us  in  the  party  and  we  had  quite  a  time 
making  it.  Well,  reckon  I'll  be  turning  in.  See  you  to- 
morrow." 

He  walked  rapidly  toward  the  cabin,  glanced  in  and 
then  went  to  his  quarters.  Neither  Schoolcraft  nor  the 
Mexican  were  to  be  seen,  for  they  were  in  the  formers 
stateroom  with  a  third  man,  holding  a  tense  and  whis- 
pered conversation.  The  horse-dealer  apparently  did  not 
agree  with  his  two  companions,  for  he  kept  doggedly 
shaking  his  head  and  reiterating  his  contentions  in 
drunken  stubbornness  that,  no  matter  what  had  been 
overheard,  Tom  Boyd  was  not  going  to  Oregon,  but  back 


ARMIJO'S  STRONG  ARM  37 

to  Santa  Fe.  He  mentioned  Patience  Cooper  several 
times  and  insisted  that  he  was  right.  While  his  com- 
panions were  not  convinced  that  they  were  wrong  they, 
nevertheless,  agreed  that  there  should  be  no  more  knife 
throwing  until  they  knew  for  certain  that  the  young 
hunter  was  not  going  over  the  southwest  trail. 

Schoolcraft  leered  into  the  faces  of  his  friends.  "You 
jest  wait  an'  see ! "  He  wagged  a  finger  at  them.  "  Th' 
young  fool  is  head  over  heels  in  love  with  her ;  an'  he'll 
find  it  out  afore  she  jines  th'  Santa  Fe  waggin  train. 
Whar  she  goes,  he* II  go.  Fm  drunk;  but  I  ain't  so  drunk 
I  don't  know  that!" 


CHAPTER  IV 

TOM   CHANGES  HIS  PLANS 

DAWN  broke  dull  and  cold,  but  without  much  wind, 
and  when  Tom  awakened  he  heard  the  churning  of 
the  great  paddle  wheel,  the  almost  ceaseless  jangling  of 
the  engine  room  bell  and  the  complaining  squeaks  of  the 
hard-worked  steering  gear.  A  faint  whistle  sounded 
from  up  river,  was  answered  by  the  Missouri  Belle,  and 
soon  the  latter  lost  headway  while  the  two  pilots  ex- 
changed their  information  concerning  the  river.  Again 
the  paddles  thumped  and  thrashed  and  the  boat  shook  as 
it  gathered  momentum. 

On  deck  he  found  a  few  early  risers,  wrapped  in  coats 
and  blankets  against  the  chill  of  the  morning  hour.  The 
overcast  sky  was  cold  and  forbidding;  the  boiling,  scur- 
rying surface  of  the  river,  sullen  and  threatening.  Going 
up  to  the  hurricane  deck  he  poked  his  head  in  the  pilot 
house. 

"  Come  on  in,"  said  the  pilot.  "  We  won't  go  fur  to- 
day.   See  that?" 

Tom  nodded.  The  small  clouds  of  sand  were  easily 
seen  by  eyes  such  as  his  and  as  he  nodded  a  sudden  gust 
tore  the  surface  of  the  river  into  a  speeding  army  of 
wavelets. 

"  Peterson  jest  hollered  over  an'  said  Clay  Point's  an 
island  now,  an'  that  th'  cut-off  is  bilin'  like  a  rapids. 
Told  me  to  look  out  for  th'  whirlpool.  They're  bad, 
sometimes." 

38 


TOM   CHANGES  HIS  PLANS  39 

"  To  a  boat  like  this  ?  "  asked  Tom  in  surprise. 

"Yep.  We  give  'em  all  a  wide  berth."  The  wheel 
rolled  over  quickly  and  the  V-shaped,  tormented  ripple 
ahead  swung  away  from  the  bow.  "  That's  purty  nigh  to 
th'  surface,"  commented  the  pilot.  "Jest  happened  to 
swing  up  an'  show  its  break  in  time.  Hope  we  kin  git 
past  Clay  before  th'  wind  drives  us  to  th'  bank.  Look 
there!" 

A  great,  low-lying  cloud  of  sand  suddenly  rose  high 
into  the  air  like  some  stricken  thing,  its  base  riven  and 
torn  into  long  streamers  that  whipped  and  writhed.  The 
gliding  water  leaped  into  short,  angry  waves,  which  bore 
down  on  the  boat  with  remarkable  speed.  As  the  blast 
struck  the  Missouri  Belle  she  quivered,  heeled  a  bit, 
slowed  momentarily,  and  then  bore  into  it  doggedly,  but 
her  side  drift  was  plain  to  the  pilot's  experienced  eyes. 

"We  got  plenty  o'  room  out  here  fer  sidin',"  he  ob- 
served; "but  'twont  be  long  afore  th'  water'U  look  th' 
same  all  over.  We're  in  fer  a  bad  day."  As  he  spoke 
gust  after  gust  struck  the  water,  and  he  headed  the  boat 
into  the  heavier  waves.  "Got  to  keep  to  th'  deepest 
water  now,"  he  explained.  "Th'  snags'  telltales  are 
plumb  wiped  out.  I  shore  wish  we  war  past  Clay.  There 
ain't  a  decent  bank  ter  lie  ag'in  this  side  o'  it." 

For  the  next  hour  he  used  his  utmost  knowledge  of  the 
river,  which  had  been  developed  almost  into  an  instinct; 
and  then  he  rounded  one  of  the  endless  bends  and 
straightened  out  the  course  with  Clay  Point  half  a  mile 
ahead. 

"  Great  Jehovah ! "  he  muttered.     "  Look  at  Clay ! " 

The  jutting  point,  stripped  bare  of  trees,  was  cut  as 
clean  as  though  some  great  knife  had  sliced  it.    Under  its 


40  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

new  front  the  river  had  cut  in  until,  as  they  looked,  the 
whole  face  of  the  bluff  slid  down  into  the  stream,  a  slice 
twenty  feet  thick  damming  the  current  and  turning  it  into 
a  raging  fury.  Some  hundreds  of  yards  behind  the 
doomed  point  the  muddy  torrent  boiled  and  seethed 
through  its  new  channel,  vomiting  trees,  stumps,  brush 
and  miscellaneous  rubbish  in  an  endless  stream.  Off  the 
point,  and  also  where  the  two  great  currents  came  to- 
gether again  behind  it  two  great  whirlpools  revolved  with 
sloping  surfaces  smooth  as  ice,  around  which  swept  drift- 
wood with  a  speed  not  unlike  the  horses  of  some  great 
merry-go-round.  The  vortex  of  the  one  off  the  point 
was  easily  ten  feet  below  the  rim  of  its  circumference, 
and  the  width  of  the  entire  affair  was  greater  than  the 
length  of  the  boat.  A  peeled  log,  not  quite  water-soaked, 
reached  the  center  and  arose  as  vertical  as  a  plumb  line, 
swayed  in  short,  quick  circles  and  then  dove  from  sight. 
A  moment  later  it  leaped  from  the  water  well  away  from 
the  pool  and  fell  back  with  a  smack  which  the  noise  of 
the  wind  did  not  drown.  To  starboard  was  a  rhythmic 
splashing  of  bare  limbs,  where  a  great  cottonwood,  partly 
submerged,  bared  its  fangs.  To  the  right  of  that  was  a 
towhead,  a  newly  formed  island  of  mud  and  sand  partly 
awash. 

The  pilot  cursed  softly  and  jerked  on  the  bell  handle, 
the  boat  instantly  falling  into  half  speed.  He  did  not  dare 
to  cut  across  the  whirlpool,  the  snag  barred  him  dead 
ahead,  and  it  was  doubtful  if  there  was  room  to  pass  be- 
tween it  and  the  towhead;  but  he  had  no  choice  in  the 
matter  and  he  rang  again,  the  boat  falling  into  bare  steer- 
age way.  If  he  ran  aground  he  would  do  so  gently  and  no 
harm  would  be  done.  *  So  swift  was  the  current  that  the 


TOM   CHANGES  HIS  PLANS  41 

moment  he  put  the  wheel  over  a  few  spokes  and  shifted 
the  angle  between  the  keel-line  and  the  current  direction, 
the  river  sent  the  craft  sideways  so  quickly  that  before  he 
had  stopped  turning  the  wheel  in  the  first  direction  he 
had  to  spin  it  part  way  back  again.  The  snag  now  lay  to 
port,  the  towhead  to  starboard,  and  holding  a  straight 
course  the  Missouri  Belle  crept  slowly  between  them. 
There  came  a  slight  tremor,  a  gentle  lifting  to  port,  and 
he  met  it  by  a  quick  turn  of  the  wheel.  For  a  moment 
the  boat  hung  pivoted,  its  bow  caught  by  a  thrusting  side 
current  and  slowly  swinging  to  port  and  the  snag.  A 
hard  yank  on  the  bell  handle  was  followed  by  a  sudden 
forward  surge,  a  perceptible  side-slip,  a  gentle  rocking, 
and  the  bow  swung  back  as  the  boat,  entirely  free  again, 
surged  past  both  dangers. 

The  pilot  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief.  *'  Peterson  didn't  say 
nothin'  about  th'  snag  or  th'  towhead,"  he  growled.  Then 
he  grinned.  '*  I  bet  he  rounded  inter  th'  edge  o'  th'  whirler 
afore  he  knowed  it  was  thar!  Now  that  I  recollect  it 
he  did  seem  a  mite  excited." 

"  Somethin'  like  a  boy  explorin'  a  cave,  an'  cqmin'  face 
to  face  with  a  b'ar,"  laughed  Tom.  "  I  recken  you  fellers 
don't  find  pilotin'  monotonous." 

"  Thar  ain't  no  two  trips  alike ;  might  say  no  two  miles, 
up  or  down,  trip  after  trip.  Here  comes  th'  rain,  an'  by 
buckets;  an'  thar's  th'  place  I  been  a-lookin'  fer.  Th' 
bank's  so  high  th'  wind  won't  hardly  tech  us." 

He  signaled  for  half  speed  and  then  for  quarter  and 
the  boat  no  sooner  had  fallen  into  the  latter  than  her  bow 
lifted  and  she  came  to  a  grating  stop.  The  crew,  which 
had  kept  to  shelter,  sprang  forward  without  a  word  and 
as  the  captain  crossed  the  bow  deck  the  great  spars  were 


42 ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

being  hauled  forward.  After  the  reversed  paddles  had 
shown  the  Belle  to  be  aground  beyond  their  help,  the 
spars  were  put  to  work  and  it  was  not  long  before  they 
pushed  her  off  again,  and  a  few  minutes  later  she  nosed 
against  the  bank. 

The  pilot  sighed  and  packed  his  pipe.  "Thar!"  he 
said,  explosively.  "Hyar  we  air,  an'  we  ain't  a-goin' 
on  ag'in  till  we  kin  see  th'  channel.  No,  sir,  not  if  we 
has  ter  stay  hyar  a  week ! " 

Tom  led  the  way  below  and  paused  at  the  foot  of  the 
companion  way  as  he  caught  sight  of  Patience.  He 
glowed  slightly  as  he  thought  that  she  had  been  waiting 
for  him ;  and  when  he  found  that  she  had  not  yet  entered 
the  cabin  for  breakfast,  the  glow  became  quite  pro- 
nounced. He  had  seen  many  pretty  girls  and  had  grov^n 
up  with  them,  but  the  fact  that  she  was  pretty  was  not 
the  thing  which  made  her  so  attractive  to  him.  There  was 
a  softness  in  her  speaking  voice,  a  quiet  dignity  and  a  cer- 
tain reserve,  so  honest  that  it  needed  no  affectations  to 
make  it  sensed ;  and  under  it  all  he  felt  that  there  was  a 
latent  power  of  will  that  would  make  panicky  fears  and 
actions  impossible  in  her.  And  he  never  had  perceived 
such  superb  defenses  against  undue  familiarity,  superb 
in  their  unobtrusiveness,  which  to  him  was  proof  of  their 
sincerity  and  that  they  were  innate  characteristics.  He 
felt  that  she  could  repel  much  more  effectively  without 
showing  any  tangible  signs  of  it  than  could  any  woman 
he  ever  had  met.  He  promised  himself  that  the  study  of 
her  nature  would  not  be  neglected,  and  he  looked  for- 
ward to  it  with  eagerness.  There  was,  to  him,  a  charm 
about  her  so  complex,  so  subtle  that  it  almost  completed 
the  circle  and  became  simple  and  apparent. 


TOM   CHANGES  HIS  PLANS  43 

She  smiled  slightly  and  acknowledged  his  bow  as  he 
approached  her. 

*'Good  morning,  Miss  Cooper.  Have  you  and  your 
uncle  breakfasted  ?  " 

"Not  yet,"  she  answered,  turning  toward  the  cabin. 
'*  I  think  he  is  waiting  for  us.    Shall  we  go  in  ?  " 

The  plural  form  of  the  personal  pronoun  sent  a  slight 
thrill  through  him  as  he  opened  the  door  for  her,  showed 
her  to  the  table,  and  seated  her  so  that  she  faced  the  wide 
expanse  of  the  river. 

"  I  imagined  that  I  felt  bumps  against  the  boat  some- 
time during  the  night,"  she  remarked.  She  looked  in- 
quiringly at  Tom  and  her  uncle.  "Did  we  strike  any- 
thing?" 

"Why,"  Tom  answered  in  simulated  surprise,  "no 
one  said  anything  about  it  to  me,  and  I've  been  with  the 
pilot  almost  since  dawn.  The  whole  fact  of  the  matter 
is  that  this  river's  dangers  are  much  over-estimated,  con- 
sidering that  boats  of  thirty  feet  and  under  have  been 
navigating  it  since  before  the  beginning  of  this  century. 
And  they  had  no  steam  to  help  them,  neither." 

Uncle  Joe  appeared  to  be  very  preoccupied  and  took 
no  part  in  the  conversation. 

"I  have  heard  uncle  and  father  speak  many  times 
about  the  great  dangers  attending  the  navigation  of  the 
Missouri,"  she  responded,  smiling  enigmatically,  and 
flashing  her  uncle  a  keen,  swift  glance.  "  They  used  to 
dwell  on  it  a  great  deal  before  father  went  out  to  Santa 
Fe.  So  many  of  their  friends  were  engaged  in  steamboat 
navigation  that  it  was  a  subject  of  deep  interest  to  them 
both,  and  they  seemed  to  be  very  well  informed  about  it." 
She  laughed  lightly  and  again  glanced  at  her  uncle.  "  Since 


44 "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

uncle  learned  that  I  might  have  to  make  the  trip  he  has 
talked  in  quite  a  different  strain;  but  he  did  suggest, 
somewhat  hopefully,  that  we  put  up  with  the  discomforts 
of  the  overland  route  and  make  the  trip  in  a  wagon. 
Don't  you  believe,  Mr.  Boyd,  that  knowledge  of  possible 
dangers  might  be  a  good  thing  ?  " 

Uncle  Joe  gulped  the  last  of  his  watery  coffee,  pushed 
back,  and  arose.  "Want  to  see  the  captain,"  he  said. 
"  Meet  you  two  later  on  deck,"  and  he  lost  no  time  in  get- 
ting out  of  the  cabin. 

"  Well,"  came  the  slow  and  careful  answer  from  Tom, 
"  so  many  of  us  pass  numerous  dangers  in  our  daily  lives, 
unknown,  unsuspected,  that  we  might  have  a  much  less 
pleasant  existence  if  we  knew  of  them.  If  they  are  dan- 
gers that  we  could  guard  against,  knowledge  of  them  cer- 
tainly would  be  a  good  thing." 

She  nodded  understandingly  and  looked  out  over  the 
tawny,  turbulent  flood,  then  leaned  forward  quickly;  and 
her  companion  did  not  lose  this  opportunity  to  admire  her 
profile.  Coming  down  the  stream  like  an  arrow,  with  a 
small  square  sail  set  well  forward,  was  a  keelboat,  its  hide- 
protected  cargo  rising  a  foot  or  more  above  the  gunwale 
amidships.  Standing  near  the  mast  was  a  lookout, 
holding  fast  to  it,  and  crouched  on  top  of  the  cargo,  the 
long,  extemporized  addition  to  the  tiller  grasped  firmly  in 
both  hands,  was  the  patron,  or  captain.  Sitting  against 
the  rear  bulkhead  of  the  hold  and  facing  astern  were 
several  figures  covered  with  canvas  and  hides,  the  best 
shift  the  crew  could  make  against  the  weather.  The 
French-Canadian  at  the  mast  waved  his  hand,  stopping 
his  exultant  song  long  enough  to  shout  a  bon  voyage  to 
the  steamboat  as  he  shot  past,  and  the  little  boat  darted 


TOM    CHANGES  HIS  PLANS  45 

from  their  sight  into  the  rain  and  the  rolling  vapor  of  the 
river  like  a  hunted  rabbit  into  a  tangle  of  briars. 

"  That's  splendid ! "  she  exclaimed,  an  exultant  lilt  in 
her  voice.  "That's  the  spirit  of  this  western  country: 
direct,  courageous,  steadfast!  Can't  you  feel  it,  Mr. 
Boyd?" 

His  eyes  shone  and  he  leaned  forward  over  the  table 
with  a  fierce  eagerness.  In  that  one  moment  he  had 
caught  a  glimpse  into  the  heart  and  soul  of  Patience 
Cooper  that  fanned  fiercely  the  flame  already  lighted  in 
his  heart.  His  own  feelings  about  the  West,  the  almost 
tearful  reverence  which  had  possessed  him  at  the  sight  of 
those  pioneer  women,  many  with  babes  at  their  breasts, 
that  he  daily  had  seen  come  into  Independence  from  the 
East  to  leave  it  on  the  West,  the  hardships  past  great 
enough  to  give  pause  to  men  of  strength,  but  not  shaking 
their  calm,  quiet  determination  to  face  greater  to  the  end 
of  that  testing  trail,  and  suffer  privations  in  a  vast  wil- 
derness ;  his  feelings,  his  hopes,  his  faith,  had  come  back 
to  him  in  those  few  words  almost  as  though  from  some 
spirit  mirror.  He  choked  as  he  fought  to  master  himself 
and  to  speak  with  a  level  voice. 

"Feel  it?"  he  answered,  his  voice  shaking.  "I  feel  it 
sometimes  until  the  sheer  joy  of  it  hurts  me !  Wait  until 
you  stand  on  the  outskirts  of  Independence  facing  the 
sunset,  and  see  those  wagons,  great  and  small,  plodding 
with  the  insistent  determination  of  a  wolverine  to  the  dis- 
tant rendezvous!  Close  your  eyes  and  picture  that  ren- 
dezvous, the  caravan  slowly  growing  by  the  addition  of 
straggling  wagons  from  many  feeding  roads.  Wait  until 
you  stand  on  the  edge  of  that  trail,  facing  the  west,  with 
rainbows  in  the  mist  of  your  eyes!    Oh,  Miss  Cooper,  I 


46  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

can't — but  perhaps  we'd  better  go  on  deck  and  see  what 
the  weather  promises." 

She  did  not  look  at  him,  but  as  she  arose  her  hand  for 
one  brief  instant  rested  lightly  on  his  outflung  arm,  and 
set  him  aquiver  with  an  ecstatic  agony  that  hurt  even 
while  it  glorified  him.  He  shook  his  head  savagely,  rose 
and  led  the  way  to  the  door ;  and  only  the  moral  fiber  and 
training  passed  on  to  him  through  generations  of  gentle- 
men kept  him  from  taking  her  in  his  arms  and  smothering 
her  with  kisses;  and  in  his  tense  struggle  to  hold  him- 
self in  check  he  did  not  realize  that  such  an  indiscretion 
might  have  served  him  well  and  that  such  a  moment 
might  never  come  again.  Holding  open  the  door  until 
she  had  passed  through,  he  closed  it  behind  them  and 
stumbled  into  a  whirling  gust  of  rain  that  stung  and 
chilled  him  to  a  better  mastery  of  himself.  Opportunity 
had  knocked  in  vain. 

"  Our  friends,  the  pilots,  will  not  be  good  company  on 
a  day  like  this,"  he  said,  gripping  the  rail  and  interposing 
his  body  between  her  and  the  gusts.  "  The  gangplank's 
out,  but  there  seems  to  be  a  lack  of  warmth  in  its  invita- 
tion.   Suppose  we  go  around  on  the  other  side  ?  " 

On  the  river  side  of  the  boat  the}^  found  shelter  against 
the  slanting  rain  and  were  soon  comfortably  seated 
against  the  cabin  wall,  wrapped  in  the  blankets  he  had 
coaxed  from  his  friend,  the  purser. 

"Just  look  at  that  fury  of  wind  and  water!'*  ex- 
claimed Patience.  "I  wonder  where  that  little  keelboat 
is  by  now  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it's  scooting  along  like  a  sled  down  an  icy  slope," 
he  answered,  hoping  that  it  had  escaped  the  hungry  maw 
of  the  great  whirlpool  off  Clay  Point.    "  They  must  have 


TOM   CHANGES  HIS  PLANS  47 

urgent  reasons  for  driving  ahead  like  that.  It  must  be  an 
express  from  the  upper  Missouri  posts  to  St.  Louis.  Mc- 
Kenzie  probably  wants  to  get  word  to  Chouteau  before 
the  fur  company's  steamboat  starts  up  the  river.  Or  it 
may  be  the  urging  of  the  thrill  that  comes  with  gambling 
with  death." 

Behind  them  Uncle  Joe  poked  his  head  out  of  the  cabin 
door  and  regarded  them  curiously.  Satisfied  that  trou- 
blesome topics  no  longer  were  being  discussed  he  moved 
forward  slowly. 

**  Oh,  here  you  are,"  he  said,  as  though  making  a  dis- 
covery. "  I  thought  I  might  find  you  out  here.  Captain 
Newell  ain't  fit  company  for  a  savage  wolf  this  morning. 
Have  you  heard  how  long  we're  going  to  be  tied  up?" 

Tom  drew  a  chair  toward  him  and  looked  up  invit- 
ingly. "  Sit  down,  Mr.  Cooper.  Why,  I  understand  we 
will  stay  here  all  day  and  night."  He  understood  the 
other  man's  restlessness  and  anxiety  about  the  wait,  but 
did  not  sympathize  with  him.  The  longer  they  were  in 
making  the  river-run  the  better  he  would  be  suited. 

Uncle  Joe  glanced  out  over  the  wild  water.  "  Oh,  well," 
he  sighed.  ''  If  we  must,  then  we  must.  That  river's 
quite  a  sight ;  looks  a  lot  worse  than  it  is.  Hello !  What's 
our  reverend  friend  doing  down  there?  Living  in  the 
hold  ?  "  He  chuckled.  "  If  he  is,  it's  a  poor  day  to  come 
up  for  air." 

They  followed  his  glance  and  beheld  a  tall,  austere, 
long- faced  clergyman  emerging  from  the  forward  hatch, 
and  behind  him  came  the  pilot  with  whom  they  had 
talked  the  evening  before.  When  both  had  reached  the 
deck  and  stepped  out  of  the  rain  the  clergyman  shook  his 
head  stubbornly  and  continued  his  argument. 


48  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

"  I  was  told  to  come  up  on  this  packet  and  examine  her 
carefully  on  the  way,"  he  asserted,  doggedly.  "Liquor 
in  vast  quantities  has  been  getting  past  both  Fort 
Leavenworth  and  Bellevue;  and  while  the  military  in- 
spectors may  be  lax,  or  worse,  that  is  an  accusation  which 
cannot  truthfully  be  brought  against  us  at  the  upper 
agency.  If  I  am  not  given  honest  assistance  in  the  prose- 
cution of  my  search,  your  captain  may  experience  a  delay 
at  our  levee  that  will  not  be  to  his  liking.  It's  all  the 
same  to  me,  for  if  it  isn't  found  on  our  way  up,  it  will 
be  found  after  we  reach  the  agency." 

"But,  my  reverend  sir!"  replied  the  pilot,  in  poorly 
hidden  anger,  "  you've  been  from  one  end  of  th'  hold  to 
th'  other !  You've  crawled  'round  like  a  worm,  stuck  yore 
nose  an'  fingers  inter  everythin'  thar  war  to  stick  'em  in ; 
you've  sounded  th'  flour  barrels  with  a  wipin'-stick,  an' 
jabbed  it  inter  bags  an'  bales.  Bein'  a  government  in- 
spector we've  had  ter  let  ye  do  it,  whether  we  liked  it  or 
not.  I've  got  no  doubts  th'  captain  will  be  glad  ter  take 
down  th'  engines,  rip  open  th'  bilers,  slit  th'  stacks  an' 
mebby  remove  th'  plankin'  of  th'  hull;  but  —  air  ye 
listenin'  close,  my  reverend  sir?  If  ye  try  ter  git  me  ter 
guide  ye  around  in  that  thar  hold  ag'in,  I'll  prove  ter  ye 
that  th'  life  o'  a  perfect  Christian  leads  ter  martyrdom. 
Jest  ram  that  down  yore  skinny  neck,  an'  be  damned  ter 
ye!" 

"  I  will  not  tolerate  such  language ! "  exclaimed  the  in- 
dignant shepherd.     "  I  shall  report  you,  sir ! " 

"  You  kin  report  an'  be  damned ! "  retorted  the  angry 
pilot.  "Yo're  too  cussed  pious  to  be  real.  What's  that 
a-stickin'  outer  yer  pocket?" 

The  inspector  felt  quickly  of  the  pocket  indicated  and 


TOM   CHANGES  HIS  PLANS  49 

pulled  out  a  half-pint  flask  of  liquor,  and  stared  at  it  in 
stupefaction.    "  Why— I " 

"Yer  a  better  actor  than  ye  air  a  preacher,"  sneered 
the  pilot,  glancing  knowingly  from  the  planted  bottle 
around  the  faces  of  the  crowd  which  had  quickly  assem- 
bled. "  O'  course,  you  deal  in  precepts ;  but  they'd  be  a 
cussed  sight  more  convincin'  fer  a  few  examples  along 
with  'em.    Good  day,  my  reverend  sir!" 

The  frocked  inspector,  tearing  his  eyes  from  the  accus- 
ing bottle  and  trying  to  close  his  mouth,  gazed  after  the 
swaggering  pilot  and  then  around  the  circle  of  grinning 
faces.  A  soft  laugh  from  above  made  him  glance  up  to 
where  Patience  and  her  companions  were  thoroughly 
enjoying  the  episode. 

"  Parson,  I'll  have  a  snorter  with  ye,"  said  a  bewhis- 
kered  bullwhacker,  striding  eagerly  forward,  his  hand 
outstretched.    "  Go  good  on  a  mornin'  like  this." 

"  Save  some  fer  me,  brother,"  called  a  trapper,  his  keen 
eyes  twinkling.  "  Alius  reckoned  you  fellers  war  sort  o' 
baby-like;  but  thar's  th'  makin'  o'  a  man  in  you."  He 
grinned.  "  'Sides,  we  dassn't  let  all  that  likker  git  up  ter 
th'  Injuns." 

"Shucks!"  exclaimed  a  raw-boned  Missourian. 
"  That's  only  a  sample  he's  takin'  up  ter  Bellevue.  He 
ain't  worryin'  none  about  a  little  bottle  like  that,  not  with 
th'  bar'ls  they  got  up  than  What  you  boys  up  thar  do 
with  all  th'  likker  ye  take  off 'n  th'  boats  ?  Nobody  ever 
saw  none  o'  it  go  back  down  th'  river." 

The  baited  inspector  hurled  the  bottle  far  out  into  the 
stream  and  tried  to  find  a  way  out  of  the  circle,  but  he 
was  not  allowed  to  break  through. 

"You  said  somethin'  about  Leavenworth  bein'  care- 


50  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

less,  or  wuss/'  said  a  soldier  who  was  going  up  to  that 
post.  "  We  use  common  sense,  up  thar.  Thar's  as  much 
likker  gits  past  th'  agencies  on  th'  land  side  as  ever  tried 
ter  git  past  on  th'  river.  Every  man  up-bound  totes  as 
much  o'  it  as  he  kin  carry.  Th'  fur  company  uses  judg- 
ment in  passin'  it  out,  fer  it  don't  want  no  drunken  In- 
juns; but  th'  free  traders  don't  care  a  rip.  If  th' 
company  ain't  got  it,  then  th'  Injuns  trade  whar  they  kin 
git  it;  an'  that  means  they'll  git  robbed  blind,  an'  bilin' 
drunk  in  th'  bargain.  If  I  had  my  way,  they'd  throw  th' 
hull  kit  of  ye  in  th'  river." 

"That's  right,"  endorsed  a  trapper,  chuckling,  and 
slapping  the  inspector  on  the  back  with  hearty  strength. 
'*  You  hold  this  hyar  boat  to  th'  bank  at  Bellevue  jest  as 
long  as  ye  kin,  parson.  It  makes  better  time  than  th' 
boys  goin'  over  th'  land,  an'  'tain't  fair  ter  th'  boys. 
Think  ye  kin  hold  her  a  hull  week,  an'  give  my  pardners 
a  chanct  ter  beat  her  ter  th'  Mandan  villages?"  He 
looked  around,  grinning.  "Them  Injuns  must  have  a 
hull  passel  o'  furs  a-waitin'  fer  th'  first  trader." 

"What's  th'  trouble  here?"  demanded  the  captain, 
pushing  roughly  through  the  crowd.  "What's  th' 
trouble?" 

"Nothing  but  the  baiting  of  a  government  inspector 
and  a  wearer  of  the  cloth,"  bitterly  answered  the  encir- 
cled minister. 

"  Oh,"  said  the  captain,  relieved.  "  Wall,  ye  git  as  ye 
give.    Are  ye  through  with  th'  hold  ?  " 

The  inspector  sullenly  regarded  him.  "I  think  so," 
he  answered. 

The  captain  wheeled  to  one  of  the  crew.  "Joe,  throw 
on  that  hatch,  lock  it,  and  keep  it  locked  until  we  get  to 


TOM   CHANGES  HIS  PLANS  51 

Bellevue,"  he  snapped.  "We're  ready  to  comply  with 
government  regulations,  at  the  proper  time  and  place. 
You  and  your  friends  can  root  around  all  you  want  after 
we  get  to  Bellevue.  The  next  time  I  find  you  in  the  hold 
with  a  lighted  candle  I'll  take  it  away  from  you  and  lock 
you  in  there."  He  turned,  ordered  the  crowd  to  disperse 
and  went  back  to  the  texas. 

It  was  an  old  story,  this  struggle  to  get  liquor  past  the 
posts  to  the  upper  Missouri,  and  there  were  tricks  as  yet 
untried.  From  the  unexpected  passage  of  this  up-bound 
inspector,  going  out  to  his  station  at  the  agency,  and  his 
officious  nosings,  it  was  believed  by  many  that  any  liquor 
on  board  would  not  have  a  chance  to  get  through.  And 
why  should  the  Belle  be  carrying  it,  since  her  destination 
and  turning  point  was  Bellevue  ? 

'*  Is  it  true  that  liquor  is  smuggled  up  the  river?  "  asked 
Patience  as  the  inspector  became  lost  to  sight  below. 

Her  companions  laughed  in  unison. 

"They  not  only  try  to  get  it  up,"  answered  Tom,  "but 
they  succeed.  I've  been  watching  that  sour-faced  parson 
on  his  restless  r amblings  about  the  boat,  and  I  knew  at 
once  that  there  must  be  a  game  on.  Sometimes  their 
information  is  correct.  However,  I'll  back  the  officers 
of  this  packet  against  him,  any  time." 

"I'm  afraid  you'd  win  your  bet,  Mr.  Boyd,"  choked 
the  uncle. 

"Uncle  Joe!  What  do  you  know  about  it?"  asked 
his  niece  accusingly. 

"  Nothing,  my  dear ;  not  a  single  thing ! "  he  expostu- 
lated, raising  his  hands  in  mock  horror,  his  eyes  resting 
on  three  new  yawls  turned  bottomside  up  on  the  deck 
near  the  bow.    He  mentally  pictured  the  half-dozen  bull- 


52  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

boats  stowed  on  the  main  deck  near  the  stern,  each  capable 
of  carrying  two  tons  if  handled  right,  and  he  shook  with 
laughter.  This  year  the  fur  company's  boat  carried  no 
liquor  and  its  captain  would  insist  on  a  most  thorough 
inspection  at  Bellevue;  but  the  fur  posts  on  the  upper 
river  would  be  overjoyed  by  what  she  would  bring  to 
them.  After  the  inspection  she  would  proceed  on  her 
calm  way,  and  tie  against  the  bank  at  a  proper  distance 
above  the  agency;  just  as  the  Belle  would  spend  a  night 
against  the  bank  at  a  proper  distance  below  Bellevue ;  and 
what  the  latter  would  run  ashore  after  midnight,  when 
the  inquisitive  minister  was  defep  in  sleep,  would  be 
smuggled  upstream  in  the  smaller  boats  during  the  dark 
of  the  night  following,  and  be  put  aboard  the  fur  boat 
above. 

"Uncle  Joe!"  said  his  niece.  "You  know  some- 
thing!" 

"God  help  the  man  that  don't!"  snorted  her  uncle. 
"Look  there!" 

A  heavily  loaded  Mackinaw  boat  had  shot  around  the 
next  bend.  It  was  of  large  size,  nearly  fifty  feet  long 
and  a  dozen  wide.  In  the  bow  were  four  men  at  the 
great  oars  and  in  the  stern  at  the  tiller  was  the  patron, 
singing  in  lusty  and  not  unpleasant  voice  and  in  mixed 
French  and  English,  a  song  of  his  own  composing. 

Patience  put  a  finger  to  her  lips  and  enjoined  silence, 
leaning  forward  to  catch  the  words  floating  across  the 
turbulent  water,  and  to  her  they  sounded  thus : 

"  Mon  pire  Baptiste  for  Pierre  Chouteau 
He  work  lak  dam  in  le  oV  bateau; 

From  Union  down  le  oV  Missou 
Lak  chased,  by  gar,  by  carcajou. 


TOM   CHANGES  HIS  PLANS  55 

"Le  conrenrs  des  hois,  le  voyageur,  too. 
He  nevaire  work  so  hard,  mon  Dieu, 

Lak  Baptiste  pere  an'  Baptiste  fils, 
Coureurs  avant  on  le  oV  Missou. 

" McKensie  say:  'Baptiste  Ladeaiix, 
Thees  lettaire  you  mus'  geeve  Chouteau; 

Vous  are  one  dam  fine  voyageur — 
So  hurry  down  le  oV  Missou. 

"Go  get  voiis  fils  an*  vous  chapeau. 
You  mebby  lak  Mackinaw  bateau' — 

Lak  that  he  say,  lak  one  dam  day 
Le  voyage  weel  tak  to  oV  St.  Lou!*' 

As  the  square  stern  of  the  fur-laden  boat  came  opposite 
the  packet  the  mercurial  patron  stopped  his  song  and 
shouted:  '' Levez  les  perches!"  and  the  four  oars  rose 
from  the  water  and  shot  into  the  air,  vertical  and  rigid. 
The  pilot  of  the  steamboat,  chancing  to  be  in  the  pilot 
house,  blew  a  series  of  short  blasts  in  recognition,  causing 
the  engineer  to  growl  something  about  wasting  his  steam. 
The  crew  of  the  Mackinaw  boat  arose  and  cheered,  the 
patron  firing  his  pistol  into  the  air.  Gay  vocal  exchanges 
took  place  between  the  two  boats,  and  the  patron,  catch- 
ing sight  of  Patience,  placed  a  hand  over  his  heart  and 
bowed,  rattling  off  habitant  French.  She  waved  in  reply 
and  watched  the  boat  forge  ahead  under  the  thrust  of 
the  perfectly  timed  oars. 

"  Mackinaw  boat,**  said  Tom,  "  and  in  a  hurry.  There's 
the  express.  There  is  a  belief  on  the  river  that  the  square 
stem  of  those  boats  gives  them  a  speed  in  rapids  greater 
than  that  of  the  current.  They  are  very  safe  and  handy 
for  this  kind  of  navigation,  and  well  built  by  skilled 


54  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

artisans  at  the  boat  yards  of  the  principal  trading  posts 
up  the  river.  They  are  a  great  advance  over  the  bullboat, 
which  preceded  them." 

"And  which  are  still  in  use,  makeshifts  though  they 
are,"  said  Captain  Newell  as  he  stopped  beside  them. 
"But  you  can't  beat  the  bullboat  for  the  purpose  for 
which  it  was  first  made;  that  of  navigating  the  shallower 
streams.  I  thought  you  would  be  glad  to  know  that  we 
expect  to  be  under  way  again  early  in  the  morning.  But, 
speaking  of  bullboats,  did  you  ever  see  one,  Miss 
Cooper?" 

"  I've  had  them  pointed  out  to  me  at  St.  Louis,  but  at 
a  distance,"  she  answered.  "  Somehow  they  did  not 
impress  me  enough  to  cause  me  to  remember  what  they 
looked  like." 

"Why,  I'll  show  you  some,"  offered  Tom  eagerly. 
"  There's  half  a  dozen  on  the  main  deck." 

Uncle  Joe  squirmed  as  he  glanced  around,  and  arose 
to  leave  for  the  card  room,  but  the  captain  smiled  and 
nodded. 

"  Yes,  that's  so,  Mr.  Boyd.  Take  a  look  at  them  when 
the  rain  lets  up.  We're  always  glad  to  carry  a  few  of 
them  back  up  the  river,  for  we  find  them  very  handy  in 
lightering  cargo  in  case  we  have  mean  shallows  that  can 
be  crossed  in  no  other  way.  You'd  be  surprised  how 
little  water  this  boat  draws  after  its  cargo  is  taken 
ashore." 

"But  why  do  they  call  them  bullboats?"  asked 
Patience. 

"They're  named  after  the  hides  of  the  bull  buffalo, 
which  are  used  for  the  covering,"  explained  the  captain. 
"First  a  bundle  of  rather  heavy  willow  poles  are  fash- 


TOM   CHANGES  HIS  PLANS  55 

ioned  into  a  bottom  and  bound  together  with  rawhide. 
To  this  other  and  more  slender  willow  poles  are  fastened 
by  their  smaller  ends  and  curved  up  and  out  to  make  the 
ribs.  Then  two  heavy  poles  are  bent  on  each  side  from 
stem  to  stern  and  lashed  to  the  ends  of  the  ribs,  forming 
the  gunwale.  Everything  is  lashed  with  rawhide  and 
not  a  bolt  or  screw  or  nail  is  used.  Hides  of  buffalo  bulls, 
usually  prepared  by  the  Indians,  although  the  hunters  and 
trappers  can  do  the  work  as  well,  are  sewn  together  with 
sinew  after  being  well  soaked.  They  are  stretched  tightly 
over  the  frame  and  lashed  securely  to  the  gim'le,  and 
they  dry  tight  as  drumheads  and  show  every  rib.  Then  a 
pitch  of  buffalo  tallow  and  ashes  is  worked  into  the  seams 
and  over  every  suspicious  spot  on  the  hides  and  the  boat 
is  ready.  Usually  a  false  flooring  of  loosely  laid  willow 
poles,  three  or  four  inches  deep,  is  placed  in  the  bottom 
to  prevent  the  water,  which  is  sure  to  leak  in,  from  wet- 
ting the  cargo.  In  the  morning  the  boat  rides  high  and 
draws  only  a  few  inches  of  water;  but  often  at  night 
there  may  be  six  or  eight  inches  slopping  around  inside. 
I  doubt  if  any  other  kind  of  a  boat  can  be  used  very  far 
up  on  the  Platte,  and  sometimes  even  bullboats  can't  go 
up." 

"  How  was  it  that  the  fur  compan/s  boat  was  tied  at 
the  levee  at  St.  Louis,  after  we  left?"  asked  Tom. 
"Rather  late  for  her,  isn't  it?" 

"  Yes,  it  is,"  answered  the  captain.  "  The  great  event 
on  this  river  has  always  been  the  annual  up-stream  fur 
packet.  She  is  coming  along  somewhere  behind  us,  and 
very  likely  will  pass  us  before  we  reach  the  mouth  of 
the  Kaw.  They  take  bigger  chances  with  the  river  than 
we  do  because  they've  got  to  get  up  to  Fort  Union  and 


56  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

away  again  while  there's  water  enough."  He  looked  at 
Patience.  "  Are  you  going  far,  Miss  Cooper  ?  "  he  asked, 
anxious  to  get  the  conversation  into  channels  more  to  his 
liking. 

"  Santa  Fe,  captain,"  she  answered  as  placidly  as 
though  it  were  a  shopping  trip  from  her  home  to  the 
downtown  stores  of  St.  Louis. 

"  Well,  well ! "  he  exclaimed,  as  if  he  had  not  known  it. 
"That  will  be  quite  an  undertaking!" 

Tom  Boyd  was  staring  at  her  aghast,  doubting  his 
ears.  The  slowly  changing  expression  on  his  face  caught 
her  attention  and  she  smiled  at  him. 

"You  look  as  if  you  had  seen  a  ghost,  Mr.  Boyd," 
she  laughed. 

"  Tm  going  to  do  my  very  best  not  to  see  one,  Miss 
Cooper;  or  let  anyone  else  see  one,"  he  answered  mys- 
teriously. "I  am  glad  that  I,  too,  am  bound  for  Santa 
Fe.  It  is  a  great  surprise  and  pleasure  to  learn  that  you 
are  going  over  the  same  trail." 

"  Why,  didn't  you  say  that  you  were  going  over  the 
Oregon  Trail  this  year?"  she  quickly  asked.  "At  least, 
I  understood  you  that  way." 

"I  often  let  my  enthusiasm  run  away  with  me,"  he 
answered.  "  Much  as  I  would  like  to  go  out  to  Oregon 
I  will  have  to  wait  until  my  affairs  will  permit  me  to 
follow  my  inclination.  You  see,  I've  made  two  trips  to 
Santa  Fe,  it  has  got  into  my  blood,  and  there  are  reasons 
why  I  must  go  over  that  trail  again.  And  then,  knowing 
the  trail  so  well,  it  is  possible  that  I  can  make  very  good 
arrangements  this  year.  But  isn't  it  a  most  remarkable 
coincidence  ?  " 

"Very,"  drily  answered  the  captain.     "By  the  way. 


TOM   CHANGES  HIS  PLANS  57 

Mr.  Boyd :  you  and  Mr.  Cooper  seem  to  be  quite  friendly, 
and  neither  of  you  waste  much  time  in  the  company  of 
your  present  roommates.  Seeing  that  you  are  both 
bunked  with  strangers,  how  would  it  suit  you  if  I  put 
you  together  in  the  same  room?  Good:  then  I'll  speak 
to  Mr.  Cooper,  and  if  it's  agreeable  to  him  Til  have  the 
change  made.  Sorry  to  tear  myself  away  from  you  two, 
but  I  must  be  leaving  now."  He  bowed  and  stepped 
into  the  cabin,  smiling  to  himself.  He  distinctly  remem- 
bered his  conversation  with  the  young  man,  only  the  day 
before,  when  Tom  had  assured  him  with  great  earnestness 
that  he  no  longer  could  resist  the  call  of  the  emigrant 
trail  and  that  he  was  going  to  follow  it  with  the  first 
outgoing  caravan.  The  captain  was  well  pleased  by  the 
change  in  the  young  man's  plans,  for  he  knew  that  the 
niece  of  his  old  friend  would  be  safer  on  her  long  journey 
across  the  plains  if  Tom  Boyd  was  a  member  of  tho 
caravan.  He  turned  his  steps  toward  the  gaming  tables 
to  find  her  uncle,  whom  he  expected  would  be  surrounded 
by  the  members  of  a  profession  which  Joe  Cooper  had 
forsaken  many  years  before  for  a  more  reputable  means 
of  earning  a  living. 

The  reputation  of  "St.  Louis  Joe"  was  known  to 
almost  everyone  but  his  niece;  and  the  ex-gambler  was 
none  too  sure  that  she  did  not  know  it.  While  his  name 
was  well-known,  there  were  large  numbers  of  gamblers 
on  both  rivers,  newcomers  to  the  streams,  who  did  not 
know  him  by  sight;  and  it  was  his  delight  to  play  the 
part  of  an  innocent  and  unsuspecting  merchant  and  watch 
them  try  to  fleece  him.  Not  one  of  the  professionals  on 
the  Missouri  Belle  knew  he  was  playing  against  a  man 
who  could  tutor  him  in  the  finer  points  of  his  chosen 


58  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

art;  but  by  this  time  they  had  held  a  conference  or  two 
in  a  vain  attempt  to  figure  why  their  concerted  efforts 
had  borne  bitter  fruit.  One  of  them,  smarting  over  his 
moderate,  but  annoyingly  persistent  losses,  was  beginning 
to  get  ugly.  While  his  pocketbook  was  lightly  touched, 
his  pride  was  raw  and  bleeding.  Elias  Stevens  was 
known  as  a  quick-tempered  man  whom  it  were  well  not 
to  prod ;  and  Joseph  Cooper  was  prodding  him  again  and 
again,  and  appearing  to  take  a  quiet  but  deep  satisfaction 
in  the  operation.  At  first  Stevens  had  hungered  only  for 
the  large  sum  of  money  his  older  adversary  had  shown 
openly  and  carelessly;  but  now  it  was  becoming  second- 
ary, and  the  desire  for  revenge  burning  in  Stevens  was 
making  him  more  and  more  reckless  in  his  play. 

The  careless  way  in  which  Joe  Cooper  had  shown  his 
money  to  arouse  the  avarice  of  the  gamblers  had  awak- 
ened quick  interest  in  others  outside  the  fraternity,  and 
other  heads  were  planning  other  ways  of  getting  posses- 
sion of  it.  Two  men  iri  particular,  believing  that  the 
best  chance  of  stealing  it  was  while  the  owner  of  it  was 
on  the  boat,  decided  to  make  the  attempt  on  this  night. 
If  the  boat  should  remain  tied  to  the  bank  their  escape 
would  be  easy;  and  if  it  started  before  daylight  they 
could  make  use  of  the  yawl,  which  was  towed  most  of 
the  time,  and  always  during  a  run  after  dark. 

Captain  Newell  looked  in  at  the  gambling  tables  and 
did  not  see  his  friend,  but  as  he  turned  to  look  about  the 
upper  end  of  the  cabin  he  caught  sight  of  him  coming 
along  the  deck,  and  stepped  out  to  wait  for  him. 

"  Looking  for  me  ?  "  asked  Uncle  Joe,  smiling. 

"  Yes ;  want  to  tell  you  that  your  young  friend  Boyd 
has  changed  his  mind  and  is  going  out  to  Santa  Fe  to 


TOM   CHANGES  HIS  PLANS  59 

look  after  his  numerous  interests  there.  Ordinarily  I 
would  keep  my  mouth  shut,  but  I  know  his  father  and 
the  whole  family,  and  no  finer  people  live  in  St.  Louis. 
Who  have  you  in  mind  to  go  in  charge  of  your  wagons  ?  " 

Uncle  Joe  scratched  his  chin  reflectively.  "Well,  I'd 
thought  of  Boyd  and  was  kinda  sorry  he  was  going  out 
over  the  other  trail.  I'll  keep  my  eyes  on  the  scamp. 
Strikes  me  he'd  take  my  wagons  through  for  his  keep, 
under  the  circumstances !  He-he-he !  Changed  his  mind, 
has  he?  D — d  if  I  blame  him;  I'd  'a'  gone  farther'n 
that,  at  his  age,  for  a  girl  like  Patience.  How  about  a 
little  nip,  for  good  luck  ?  " 

"Not  now.  How  would  you  like  to  change  sleeping 
partners?"  asked  the  captain,  quickly  explaining  the 
matter. 

"  First  rate  idea ;  th'  partner  I  got  now  spends  most  of 
his  nights  scratching.  Better  shift  me  instead  of  him, 
or  Boyd'll  get  cussed  little  sleep  in  that  bunk." 

Captain  Newell  leaned  against  the  cabin  and  laughed. 
"  All  right,  Joe ;  I'll  have  your  things  taken  out  and  the 
change  made  by  supper  time,  at  the  latest.  Look  out  those 
gamblers  in  there  don't  skin  you." 

True  to  his  word  the  captain  shifted  Joe  Cooper  to 
the  room  of  his  new  friend,  and  sent  the  bull-necked, 
bullwhacking  bully  who  had  shared  Tom's  cabin  to  take 
the  ex-gambler's  former  berth.  This  arrangement  was 
suitable  both  ways,  for  not  only  were  the  two  friends  put 
together,  but  the  two  loud-voiced,  cursing,  frontier 
toughs  found  each  other  very  agreeable.  They  had  made 
each  other's  acquaintance  at  the  camp-fire  on  the  bank 
the  night  previous  and  like  many  new  and  hastily  made 


6o  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

friendships,  it  had  not  had  time  to  show  its  weaknesses. 
One  of  them  had  stolen  a  bottle  of  liquor  at  the  camp 
fire  carousal  and  upon  learning  of  the  change  shortly 
after  supper,  had  led  his  new  roommate  to  their  joint 
quarters  to  celebrate  the  event ;  where  they  both  remained. 

The  early  part  of  the  night  was  passed  as  usual, 
Uncle  Joe  at  the  card  tables,  Tom  Boyd  with  Patience 
and  later  mingling  with  the  hunters  and  trappers  in  the 
cabin  until  his  eyes  became  heavy  and  threatened  to 
close.  Leaving  his  friend  at  the  table,  he  went  to  their 
room  and  in  a  few  moments  was  so  fast  asleep  that  he 
did  not  hear  the  merchant  come  in.  It  seemed  to  him  that 
he  had  barely  closed  his  eyes  when  he  awakened  with  a 
start,  sitting  up  in  the  berth  so  suddenly  that  he  soundly 
whacked  his  head  against  the  ceiling.  He  rolled  out  and 
landed  on  the  floor  like  a  cat,  pistol  in  hand,  just  as  his 
roommate  groped  under  the  pillow  for  his  own  pistol 
and  asked  what  the  trouble  was  all  about. 

The  sound  of  it  seemed  to  fill  the  boat.  Shouts,  curses, 
crashes  against  the  thin  partition  located  it  for  them  as 
being  in  the  next  room,  and  lighting  a  candle,  the  two 
friends,  pistols  in  hands,  cautiously  opened  the  door  just 
as  one  of  the  boat's  officers  came  running  down  the 
passage-way  with  a  lantern  in  his  hand.  There  was  a 
terrific  crash  in  the  stateroom  and  they  saw  him  put 
down  the  light  and  leap  into  a  dark  shadow,  and  roll  out 
into  sight  again  in  a  tangle  of  legs  and  anus.  Other 
doors  opened  and  night-shirted  men  poured  out  and  filled 
the  passage. 

The  battle  in  the  stateroom  had  taken  an  unexpected 

turn  the  moment  the  officer  appeared,  for  the  door  sagged 

suddenly,  burst  from  its  hinges  and  flew  across  the  nar- 


TOM   CHANGES  HIS  PLANS  6i 

row  way,  followed  by  a  soaring  figure,  to  one  leg  of 
which  Ebenezer  Whittaker,  bully  bull  whacker  of  the 
Santa  Fe  trail,  was  firmly  fastened.  After  him  dived 
his  new  friend,  who  once  had  ruled  a  winter-bound  party 
of  his  kind  in  Brown's  hole  with  a  high  and  mighty 
hand.  The  trapper  went  head  first  into  the  growling 
pair  rolling  over  the  floor,  his  liquor-stimulated  zeal  not 
permitting  him  to  waste  valuable  time  in  so  small  a  mat- 
ter as  the  identity  of  the  combatants.  He  knew  that  one 
of  them  was  his  new  roommate,  the  other  a  prowling 
thief,  and  being  uncertain  in  the  poor  light  as  to  which 
was  which,  he  let  the  Goddess  of  Chance  direct  his  ener- 
gies. 

At  the  other  end  of  the  passage-way  the  boat's  ofHcer, 
now  reinforced  by  so  many  willing  helpers  that  the  affair 
was  fast  taking  on  the  air  of  a  riot,  at  last  managed  to 
drag  the  thief's  lookout  from  the  human  tangle  and 
hustle  him  into  the  eager  hands  of  three  of  the  crew, 
leaving  the  rescuers  to  fight  it  out  among  themselves, 
which  they  were  doing  with  praiseworthy  energy  and 
impartial  and  indefinite  aims.  Considering  that  they  did 
not  know  whom  they  were  fighting,  nor  why,  they  were 
doing  so  well  that  Tom  wondered  what  force  could  with- 
stand them  if  they  should  become  united  in  a  compelling 
cause  and  concerted  in  their  attack. 

At  the  inner  end  of  the  passage,  having  beaten,  choked, 
and  gouged  the  thief  into  an  inert  and  senseless  mass, 
the  bullwhacker  turned  his  overflowing  energies  against 
his  new  and  too  enthusiastic  friend,  and  they  rolled  into 
the  stateroom,  out  again,  and  toward  the  heaving  pile  at 
the  upper  end  of  the  hall.  Striking  it  in  a  careless,  hap- 
hazard but  solid  manner,  just  as   it  was  beginning  to 


62 "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

disintegrate  into  its  bruised  and  angry  units,  the  fighting 
pair  acted  upon  it  like  a  galvanic  current  on  a  reflex  cen- 
ter; and  forthwith  the  scramble  became  scrambled  anew. 

Finally,  by  the  aid  of  capstan-bars,  boat  hooks,  axe 
handles,  and  cordwood,  the  boat's  officers  and  crew  man- 
aged to  pry  the  mass  apart  and  drag  out  one  belligerent 
at  a  time.  They  lined  them  up  just  as  Captain  Newell 
galloped  down  the  passage-way,  dressed  in  a  pair  of 
trousers,  reversed ;  one  rubber  boot  and  one  red  sock  and 
a  night  shirt  partly  thrust  inside  the  waistband  of  the 
trousers;  but  he  was  carefully  and  precisely  hatted  with 
a  high-crowned  beaver.  He  looked  as  if  he  were  coming 
from  a  wake  and  going  to  a  masquerade.  Notwithstand- 
ing the  very  recent  and  exciting  events  he  received  a 
great  amount  of  attention. 

**  What-in-hell's-th'-matter  ? "  he  angrily  demanded, 
glaring  around  him,  a  pistol  upraised  in  one  hand,  the 
other  gripping  a  seasoned  piece  of  ash.  "Answer-me-I- 
say-what-in-helFs-th'-matter-down-here  ?  " 

"There  was  a  fight,"  carefully  explained  the  weary 
officer. 

"  Hell's  -  bells  - 1  -  thought  -  it  -  was  -  a  -  prayer  -  meetin'  ! " 
yelped  the  captain.    "  Who-was-fightin'  ?  " 

**  They  was/'  answered  the  officer,  waving  both  hands 
in  all  directions. 

"What-about?" 

The  officer  looked  blank  and  scratched  his  head,  care- 
fully avoiding  the  twin  knobs  rising  over  one  ear. 
"Damned  if  /  know,  sir!" 

"Were  you  fightin',  Flynn?"  demanded  the  captain 
aggressively  and  with  raging  suspicion.  "  Come,  up  with 
it,  were  you?" 


TOM   CHANGES  HIS  PLANS  63 

"No,  sir;  I  was  a-stoppin'  it." 

"My  G — d!  Then  don't  you  never  dare  start  one!" 
snapped  the  captain,  staring  around.  "  You  look  like  the 
British  at  N'Orleans,"  he  told  the  line-up.  "  What  was 
it  all  about ?    Hell's  bells !    It  must  'a'  had  a  beginning! " 

"Yessir,"  replied  the  officer.  "It  sorta  begun  all  at 
once,  right  after  th'  explosion." 

"What  explosion?" 

"  I  dunno.  I  heard  it,  'way  up  on  th'  hurricane  deck, 
an'  hustled  right  down  here  fast  as  I  could  run.  Just 
as  I  got  right  over  there,"  and  he  stepped  forward  and 
with  his  foot  touched  the  exact  spot,  "that  there  state- 
room door  come  bustin'  out  right  at  me.  I  sorta  ducked 
to  one  side,  an'  plumb  inter  somebody  that  hit  me  on  th' 
eye.  I  reckon  th'  fightin'  was  from  then  on.  Excuse 
me,  sir ;  but  you  got  yore  pants  on  upside-down  —  I  means 
stem-foremost,  sir." 

"  What's  my  pants  got  to  do  with  this  disgraceful  riot, 
or  mebby  mutiny?"  blazed  the  reddening  captain.  He 
couldn't  resist  a  downward  glance  over  his  person,  and 
hastily  slipped  the  red-socked  foot  behind  its  booted  mate. 

Somebody  snickered  and  the  sound  ran  along  the  line, 
gathering  volume.  Glaring  at  the  battle-scarred  line-up, 
Captain  Newell  waved  the  pistol  and  seemed  at  a  loss  for 
words. 

Uncle  Joe  stepped  forward  with  the  bullwhacker. 
"Captain,  this  man  says  he  woke  up  an'  found  a  thief 
reachin'  under  his  pillow,  where  he  keeps  his  bottle.  I 
think  the  thief  is  against  the  wall,  there ;  and  his  partner, 
who  doubtless  acted  as  his  lookout,  is  in  the  hands  of 
those  two  men.  The  rest  of  th'  fightin'  was  promiscuous, 
but  well  meant.    I  reckon  if  you  put  those  two  thieves 


64  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'* 

in  irons  an'  let  th'  rest  of  us  go  back  to  our  berths  it'll 
be  th'  right  thing  to  do.  As  for  Flynn,  he  deserves  credit 
for  his  part  in  it." 

"That's  my  understanding  of  it,  captain,"  said  Tom, 
and  again  burst  out  laughing.  "Evidently  they  were 
after  Mr.  Cooper's  money,  which  he  has  shown  recklessly, 
and  they  did  not  know  that  he  had  changed  staterooms." 

"  Reckon  that's  it,  captain ! "  shouted  someone,  laugh- 
ingly. "Anyhow,  it's  good  enough.  Come  on,  captain; 
it's  time  for  a  drink  all  'round ! " 

In  another  moment  a  shirt-tailed  picnic  was  in  full 
swing,  the  bottles  passing  rapidly. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  INSULT 

SHOllTLY  after  dawn  Tom  awakened  and  became 
conscious  of  a  steady  vibration  and  the  rhythmical 
splash  of  the  paddle  wheel.  Hurriedly  dressing  he  went 
out  on  deck  and  glanced  shoreward.  The  cream-and- 
chocolate  colored  water,  of  an  opacity  dense  enough  to 
hide  a  piece  of  shell  only  a  quarter  of  an  inch  below  its 
surface,  rioted  past;  to  port  was  a  low-lying  island  cov- 
ered with  an  amazing  mass  of  piled-up  trees,  logs  and 
debris,  deposited  there  by  the  racing  current  of  the  rapid- 
ly-falling stream ;  and  the  distant  shore  was  covered  with 
dense  forests  of  walnut  and  cottonwood,  interspersed 
with  rich  bottoms  masked  by  tangles  of  brush.  Farther 
up  he  knew  the  sight  would  change  into  an  almost  treeless 
expanse  of  green  prairies,  gashed  by  scored  bluffs  of  clay. 
The  surface  of  the  river  was  not  smooth  and  the  wind 
already  had  reached  disturbing  strength,  while  an  occa- 
sional gust  of  chilling  rain  peppered  the  water  and 
assaulted  the  boat.  From  the  beat  of  the  paddles  and  the 
high  frequency  of  the  vibrations  he  knew  the  Belle  was 
going  ahead  under  full  steam,  but  his  momentary  frown 
was  effaced  by  the  thought  that  the  pilot  was  competent 
and  knew  what  he  was  doing.  Still,  he  felt  a  little  uneasy, 
and  went  forward  to  pay  the  pilot  a  visit. 

Reaching  the  hurricane  deck  he  saw  both  pilots  at  the 
wheel  and  also  a  lookout  on  the  roof  of  the  little  house, 

65 


66  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

while  in  the  very  point  of  the  bow,  on  the  main  deck, 
another  lookout  was  scrutinizing  the  river  ahead. 

"  We're  makin'  good  time,"  said  Tom  pleasantly  as  he 
poked  his  head  in  the  pilot  house. 

"Yes,"  came  an  answering  grunt;  "too  good,  mebby." 

His  words  and  manner  were  not  calculated  to  encourage 
conversation  and  the  visitor  went  down  to  see  about 
breakfast.  Fortified  by  a  cup  of  coffee  he  felt  able  to 
wait  until  the  meal  was  ready  and  went  out  on  deck 
again,  standing  in  the  shelter  of  an  angle  of  the  cabin, 
pretending  to  be  interested  in  the  slowly  shifting  pano- 
rama, but  really  impatiently  waiting  for  the  appearance 
of  Patience  Cooper.  He  had  waited  for  about  an  hour, 
hardly  stirring  from  his  post  near  the  door  which  she 
had  used  the  morning  before,  when  he  caught  sight  of 
her  crossing  the  cabin.  Turning  from  the  window  and 
stepping  forward  he  opened  the  door  for  her  and  after  a 
short,  cheerful  talk  about  being  under  way  again,  led  her 
to  the  breakfast  table,  ignoring  the  scowling  horse-dealer 
who  sat  at  a  table  in  a  corner  talking  to  Elias  Stevens. 

Their  breakfast  did  not  take  as  long  as  it  had  on  the 
previous  morning,  one  reason  being  that  while  they  ate 
they  sensed  the  boat  turn  toward  the  shore  and  before 
they  had  finished  it  stopped  along  the  bank  and  moored 
again. 

"  I  do  believe  the  rain  has  ceased  for  the  day,"  Patience 
observed,  peering  out  of  the  window  by  her  side.  "  It  is 
growing  brighter  every  minute.  I  wonder  why  the  boat 
has  stopped  ?  " 

"  Too  much  wind,"  answered  her  companion,  nodding 
at  the  waves  running  past  the  boat. 

"If  that  is  all,  Fm  going  ashore,"  she  declared. 


THE   INSULT  67 


"You  may  find  it  disagreeable,"  warned  Tom,  de- 
lighted by  the  prospect  of  a  tramp  with  her.  "  It  is  bound 
to  be  wet  under  foot  and  the  wind  will  be  cold  and  pene- 
trating; but  if  you  don't  mind  it,  I'm  sure  /  don't.  "  He 
finished  his  coffee  and  smiled.  "  It  will  be  a  great  relief 
to  get  off  this  boat." 

"  Come  on,  then ;  I'll  meet  you  at  the  landing  stage  in 
ten  minutes,"  she  exclaimed.  **  This  will  be  a  good 
opportunity  to  get  accustomed  to  the  heavy  boots  Uncle 
Joe  had  made  for  me.  They  smell  like  tallow  candles 
with  leather  wicks,  if  you  can  imagine  the  combination." 

He  saw  her  enter  her  stateroom  and  then  went  to  his 
own,  got  his  rifle  and  stood  at  the  gangplank  like  a  sentry. 
In  less  than  the  allotted  time  she  joined  him,  waved  gaily 
at  her  uncle  and  the  captain,  who  were  talking  together 
near  the  pilot  house,  and  went  down  the  sloping  plank, 
eager  to  explore  the  river  bank.  As  they  reached  the  top 
of  the  terrace-like  bank  and  turned  to  wave  again,  the 
sun  broke  through  the  clouds  and  turned  the  moisture- 
laden  trees  and  brush  into  a  jeweled  fairyland.  They 
did  not  go  far  south  since  they  were  restricted  to  the 
more  open  spaces  where  they  could  walk  without  rubbing 
against  wet  foliage,  but  they  found  comparatively  open 
lanes  along  the  top  of  the  bank,  from  where  they  could 
keep  watch  over  the  packet  and  get  back  without  undue 
haste  at  the  sound  of  her  warning  whistle. 

They  crossed  the  trails  of  several  animals  and  she 
listened  with  interest  to  her  companion's  description  of 
their  makers,  wondering  at  his  intimate  knowledge  of 
animal  habits.  Finally,  coming  to  a  great  cottonwood 
log,  stripped  of  its  bark  and  shining  in  the  sunlight,  he 
helped  her  upon  it  and  sat  down  by  her  side. 


68  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

"  You  surprised  me,  Miss  Cooper,  when  you  mentioned 
you  were  going  to  Santa  Fe,"  he  said,  turning  to  one  of 
the  subjects  uppermost  in  his  mind.  '*  It  is  a  long, 
tedious,  trying  journey  to  men,  and  it  must  prove  infin- 
itely more  so  to  a  woman." 

"I  suppose  so,"  she  replied  reflectively.  "But  you 
know,  Mr.  Boyd,  I  haven't  seen  my  father  in  five  years, 
and  his  letter,  sent  back  by  the  eastbound  caravan  from 
Santa  Fe  last  year,  told  us  how  he  missed  me  and  how 
dissatisfied  he  was  with  his  housekeeping  arrangements 
and  how  he  dreaded  to  spend  another  winter  away  from 
us.  It  was  too  late  then,  of  course,  to  make  the  trip,  but 
I  determined  to  go  to  him  with  the  first  caravan  leaving 
Independence  this  spring.  Uncle  Joe  fumed  and  fussed 
about  it  and  collected  all  the  stories  of  privation,  loss 
of  sanity  and  sudden  death,  and  everything  else  of  a 
deterring  nature  and  brought  them  home  to  me  to  serve 
as  warnings.  I  can  do  anything  I  want  with  him  except 
keep  him  from  gambling,  and  when  he  really  understood 
that  nothing  could  stop  me,  he  gave  in  and  I  soon  had 
him  so  busy  explaining  away  the  woeful  tales  he  had 
brought  me,  and  hunting  up  new  ones  of  a  bright  and 
cheerful  aspect  that  he  half  believed  them  himself.  I 
learned  that  all  the  Indians  were  pets,  that  there  were 
miles  of  flowers  all  the  way,  that  people  near  death  from 
all  kinds  of  causes  miraculously  recovered  their  health 
by  the  end  of  the  first  two  days,  and  that  the  caravan 
had  to  watch  closely  to  keep  its  members  from  leaving 
it  and  settling  all  along  the  trail." 

They  burst  out  laughing  together.  He  could  easily 
picture  her  uncle  frantically  reversing  himself.  He  had 
taken  a  great  liking  to  Joseph  Cooper,  who  was  a  humor- 


THE   INSULT  69 


ous,  warm-hearted  old  fox  among  his  friends,  delighting 
in  their  pleasures  and  sunning  himself  complacently  in 
their  approbation.  No  trouble  was  too  great  for  him  to 
go  through  if  it  would  bring  happiness  to  those  he  cared 
for. 

They  laughed  and  chatted  and  enjoyed  themselves 
greatly,  and  were  very  much  surprised  when  his  lean 
figure  appeared  beside  the  pilot  house  and  they  saw  him 
wave  his  hat  and  motion  toward  his  mouth  with  anima- 
tion and  great  exaggeration. 

"  Good  heavens !  Is  it  dinner  time  already?  "  exclaimed 
Tom,  sliding  from  the  log,  and  becoming  aware  for  the 
first  time  that  the  log  had  been  far  from  as  dry  as  he 
thought. 

Laughing  and  scampering,  they  hurried  back  toward 
the  landing,  racing  down  the  hill  that  led  to  the  little 
opening  in  the  grove  not  far  from  the  water's  edge.  As 
they  started  down  it  Tom  caught  sight  of  several  figures 
sprawled  on  the  sand,  which  had  dried  quickly  under  the 
combined  attacks  of  sun  and  wind.  Among  them  he  saw 
the  lank  form  of  Ephriam  Schoolcraft  slowly  arising 
to  one  elbow  as  the  horse-dealer  turned  and  watched  them 
come  down  the  incline. 

Patience  stumbled,  her  heavy  boots  bothering  her,  and 
her  companion  checked  himself  and  caught  her  as  she 
pitched  forward.  Swinging  her  through  the  air,  he  put 
her  down  again  on  the  other  side  of  him  and  laughingly 
offered  his  arm. 

*'  Thar  ain't  nothin'  like  'lasses  fer  to  draw  flies,"  came 
the  drawling,  unpleasant  voice  of  the  sneering  figure  on 
the  ground.  *'  Blow  flies  air  included.  Wrap  it  in  skirts 
an'  young  fellers  make  plumb  fools  o'  theirselves.    Any 


70  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

flirt  kin  pull  th'  wool  over  thar  eyes  like  it  war  a  loose 
skin  cap.''  His  raucous  laugh  was  doubly  disagreeable 
because  of  the  sneer  envenoming  it,  and  Tom  stiffened. 

"I  seed  an  example  o'  that  right  yere  on  this  hyar 
packet;  an'  most  likely  I'll  see  a  hull  lot  more  o'  it  if  I 
has  patience.    He-he-he!" 

Tom  checked  his  stride,  but  the  quick,  reassuring  pres- 
sure on  his  arm  made  him  keep  on,  his  burning  face  held 
rigidly  toward  the  boat.  He  dared  not  look  at  his  com- 
panion. They  walked  silently  up  the  landing  stage  and 
into  the  cabin,  Tom  waiting  with  ill  concealed  impatience 
until  his  companion  should  join  her  uncle  at  the  table. 
But  he  was  surprised,  for  she  spoke  in  a  pleasant,  soft 
tone  and  ordered  him  to  remain  where  he  was  for  a  few 
minutes.  Before  he  could  make  up  his  mind  what  she 
meant  he  saw  her  lean  over  her  uncle's  table  and  say 
something.  The  ex-gambler  pushed  suddenly  back,  pat- 
ted her  on  the  head  and  walked  briskly  but  nonchalantly 
toward  the  curious  onlooker. 

"You  young  folks  never  have  any  regard  for  an  old 
man's  comfort,"  he  chuckled  as  he  took  hold  of  Tom's 
arm.  "Now,  sir,  I'll  take  great  pleasure  in  stretching 
my  legs  in  any  direction  you  may  select,  and  in  stretching 
the  neck  of  any  officious  meddler.  I  am  at  your  service, 
Tom ;  and,  damn  it,  I'm  not  too  old  to  become  a  princi- 
pal!" 

Tom  stared  at  him  for  a  moment  as  the  words  sunk 
in.  "By  G — d!"  he  murmured.  "There  ain't  another 
like  her  in  th'  whole,  wide  world!  Thank  you,  Mr. 
Cooper:  if  you'll  be  kind  enough  to  stand  on  one  side 
and  keep  the  affair  strictly  between  myself  and  that  pole- 
cat, I'll  try  not  to  keep  you  from  your  dinner  very  long. 


THE   INSULT  71 


He  might  have  been  decent  enough  to  have  picked  his 
quarrel  in  some  other  way ! " 

Schoolcraft  arose  alerdy  as  they  entered  the  little 
clearing,  and  watched  Tom  hand  the  double-barreled  rifle 
to  his  companion,  slip  off  his  belt  and  throw  his  coat 
over  it.  The  horse-dealer  grinned  with  savage  elation 
as  he  discarded  his  own  weapons  and  coat,  hardly  be- 
lieving in  his  good  fortune.  Not  many  men  along  the 
border  cared  to  meet  him  unarmed. 

Tom  stepped  forward.  "  Every  time  I  look  at  that 
terbaccer  juice  a-dribblin'  down  yer  chin,  Schoolcraft,  it 
riles  me,"  he  said  evenly.  "  I'm  a-goin'  ter  wipe  it  off," 
and  his  open  hand  struck  his  enemy's  jaw  with  a 
resounding  whack  as  he  stepped  swiftly  to  one  side. 
"You've  alius  had  a  sneakin'  grudge  ag'in  me,"  he 
asserted,  giving  ground  before  the  infuriated  horse- 
dealer,  "since  I  caught  ye  cheatin'  at  Independence. 
You've  been  tryin'  ter  work  it  off  ever  since  we  left  th' 
levee.    I  reckon  this  belongs  to  you ! " 

He  stepped  in  quickly  and  drove  his  right  fist  into 
Schoolcraft's  mouth,  avoiding  the  flailing  blows.  "If 
ye'll  stand  up  ter  it  an'  make  it  a  fight,"  he  jeered,  "  I'll 
be  much  obliged  to  ye,  fer  I've  promised  my  friend  not 
ter  keep  him  from  his  dinner."  Again  he  stepped  in 
and  struck  the  bleeding  lips.  He  boxed  correctly  accord- 
ing to  the  times,  except  that  he  used  his  feet  to  good 
advantage.  His  education  at  an  eastern  university  had 
been  well  rounded  and  he  never  allowed  himself  to  get 
out  of  condition. 

Schoolcraft,  stung  to  fury,  leaped  forward  to  grapple, 
hoping  to  make  it  a  rough-and-tumble  affair,  at  which 
style  of  fighting  he  had  but  few  equals.     Instead  of  his 


T2^ "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

adversary  stepping  to  one  side,  he  now  stood  solidly 
planted  in  one  spot,  his  left  foot  a  little  advanced,  and 
drove  in  a  series  of  straight-arm  blows  .that  sent  the 
horse-dealer  staggering  back.  The  younger  man  pressed 
his  advantage,  moving  forward  with  unswerving  deter- 
mination, his  straight  punches  invariably  beating  the 
ill-timed  and  terrific  swings  of  his  bleeding  opponent, 
who  showed  a  vitality  and  an  ability  to  take  punishment 
not  unusual  among  the  men  of  his  breed.  The  horse- 
dealer  knew  that  if  the  fight  remained  an  open  affair  he 
would  not  last  long,  and  he  got  command  over  his  rage 
and  began  to  use  his  head. 

Suddenly  he  dropped  to  hands  and  knees  under  a 
right-hand  blow  that  was  a  little  short  of  hurting  him, 
and  sprang  up  under  his  enemy's  guard,  and  brought 
exultant  ejaculations  from  his  little  group  of  friends. 
But  for  the  warning  conveyed  to  Tom  by  the  knowledge 
that  he  barely  had  touched  the  horse-dealer's  jaw  with 
that  blow,  and  could  not  have  knocked  him  down,  the 
trick  might  have  worked;  and  as  it  was  it  succeeded  in 
bringing  the  two  men  to  close  grips.  Schoolcraft's  right 
arm  slid  around  his  enemy's  waist  and  hugged  him  close, 
while  the  left  slipped  up  between  them  until  the  hand 
went  under  the  younger  man's  chin  and  began  to  push  it 
up  and  back.  It  was  the  horse-dealer's  favorite  and  most 
deadly  trick  and  he  exulted  as  he  arched  his  back  and 
threw  his  full  strength  into  the  task.  Never  had  it  failed 
to  win,  for  the  victim  of  that  hold  must  either  quit  or 
have  his  neck  broken;  and  the  choice  did  not  rest  with 
the  victim. 

The  muscles  of  Tom's  neck  stood  out  as  though  they 
would  burst,  the  veins  of  his  forehead  and  throat  swelling 


THE   INSULT  73 


into  tiny  serpents,  and  his  crimson  face  grew  darker  and 
darker,  a  purplish  tint  creeping  into  it.  But  Schoolcraft 
found  that  he  was  dealing  with  a  man  who  had  studied 
wrestling  as  eagerly  as  its  sister  science.  He  also  found 
that  there  was  a  counter  to  his  favorite  hold,  always  pro- 
viding that  it  had  been  robbed  of  its  greatest  factor: 
surprise.  For  it  to  be  deadly  effective  his  whole  strength 
had  to  be  thrown  into  it  instantly  and  meet  no  ready, 
rigid  opposition;  and  in  this  he  had  failed  because  of  the 
subtle  warning  conveyed  to  his  adversary  when  he  fell 
before  a  harmless  blow.  Almost  before  he  knew  it 
Tom's  left  arm,  circling  high  in  air,  jammed  in  between 
their  heads  and  forced  its  way  down  to  Schoolcraft's 
cheek.  At  the  same  instant  the  right  hand  dashed  down 
and  got  a  hold  inside  his  left  thigh,  close  up  against  the 
crotch;  and  as  the  left  arm  thrust  his  head  sidewise  with 
a  power  not  to  be  withstood,  the  right  hand  lifted  sud- 
denly to  the  right  and  he  struck  the  ground  on  his  head 
and  shoulder  with  a  shock  which  rendered  him  senseless. 

The  winner  staggered  back,  braced  himself  and  swayed 
a  little  on  his  feet  as  he  sucked  in  great  gulps  of  air.  He 
wheeled  savagely  as  he  heard  a  shuffling  step  to  one  side 
and  slightly  behind  him,  but  the  precaution  was  not 
necessary,  for  simultaneously  with  the  shuffling  came  Joe 
Cooper's  snapped  warning,  cold  and  deadly. 

"  Better  stop,  Stevens !  I'm  only  lookin'  for  an  excuse 
to  blow  you  open ! " 

Elias  Stevens  obeyed,  standing  irresolute  and  scowl- 
ing.   "  You  talk  d — d  big  behind  a  gun ! "  he  sneered. 

"Only  half  as  big  as  I  might,  seeing  it's  a  double 
gun,"  retorted  the  older  man.  "If  it  don't  suit  you  we 
can  turn,  step  off  ten  paces  an'  fire  when  we're  ready. 


74  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'* 

Might  as  well  make  a  good  job  of  it  while  we're  about 
it.  I  ain't  no  Mike  Fink;  but  you  ain't  no  Carpenter, 
so  I  reckon  it's  purty  even." 

"I'll  take  care  of  any  objectors,  in  any  fashion,"  said 
Tom,  facing  Stevens  and  the  others.  "  I'll  be  ready  fer 
you,  Stevens,  by  th'  time  you  get  your  weapons  an'  coat 
off,  if  you  choose  that  way.  Pickin'  on  an  old  man  don't 
go  while  there's  a  younger  one  around;  an',  besides,  it's 
my  quarrel.  There  it  is,  in  your  teeth;  take  it,  and  eat 
it!" 

"It  war  a  fair  fight,"  said  an  onlooker  in  grudging 
admiration.  He  expressed  the  ethics  of  the  fighting  cur- 
rent at  that  time  in  that  part  of  the  country.  Any  kind  of 
fighting,  be  it  with  hands,  feet,  nails,  teeth  or  other 
weapons  was  fair  as  long  as  no  outsider  took  a  hand  in 
it.  It  had  been  the  rule  of  the  keelboatmen  and  they  had 
carried  it  up  and  down  the  waterways,  from  New  Or- 
leans to  the  upper  Mississippi  and  from  Pittsburg  to 
the  Rockies. 

Tom  nodded.  "All  right.  You  can  tell  him  that  he 
won't  get  in  close,  next  time,"  he  said,  glancing  at  the 
stirring  loser.  "Come  on.  Uncle  Joe;  your  dinner's 
plumb  cold  an'  ruined." 

"  I'm  hot  enough  to  warm  it  as  I  chaw ! "  snapped  his 
friend.  "I  was  scared  for  a  moment,  though;  fighting 
out  in  this  country  don't  get  you  nothin'  but  a  tombstone, 
generally,  an'  you'll  be  cussed  lucky  if  you  get  that.  But 
you  did  what  you  started  out  to  do ;  I  couldn't  see  no  to- 
bacco juice  on  his  chin  th'  last  time  I  looked."  He  fol- 
lowed his  companion  down  the  bank  and  as  they  crossed 
the  gangplank  he  chuckled.  "  I  won't  eat  no  liver  for  a 
long  time,  I  reckon :  his  face  near  made  me  sick ! " 


THE  INSULT  75 


"I  shouldn't  'a'  cut  him  up  so,"  admitted  Tom;  "but 
I  was  working  off  a  grudge.  Next  time,  I'll  kill  him." 
Then  he  thought  of  Patience  and  glowed  all  over. 
** There  ain't  another  like  her,  nowhere!"  he  muttered. 

Uncle  Joe  glanced  sideways  at  the  slightly  marked 
face  of  his  companion,  shrewdly  noting  the  expression 
of  reverent. awe  and  adoration. 

"Young  man,"  he  said,  "you're  a  little  mite  hasty, 
but  I  like  'em  that  way.  I  reckon  if  you  took  my  wag- 
gins  inter  Santa  Fe  you'd  get  patience." 

At  this  second  play  on  her  name  within  the  last  half 
hour  Tom  whirled  in  his  tracks  and  held  out  his  hand. 
"  Uncle  Joe,  if  you  think  I'm  able  to  handle  'em,  I'll  take 
'em  through  h  —  1  if  I  have  to,  without  a  blister — "  then 
he  faltered  and  his  face  grew  hard  as  he  shook  his  head 
in  regret.  "I  can't  do  it,"  he  growled.  "It  wouldn't 
be  fair  to  bring  down  Armijo's  wrath  on  your  niece  and 
brother.  He'd  hound  them  like  the  savage  brute  he  is. 
No;  you'll  have  to  keep  to  whatever  arrangements  you 
had  in  mind." 

Uncle  Joe  shook  his  head.  "That's  too  bad,  Tom. 
I  was  counting  on  you  keeping  an  eye  on  Patience  and 
seeing  her  through.    It's  too  cussed  bad." 

Tom's  laugh  rang  out  across  the  water.  "Oh,  I'm 
going  to  do  that!  I'm  bound  for  Santa  Fe,  either  as  a 
free  lance  or  with  trade  goods  of  my  own ;  but  I  am  not 
going  with  your  wagons.  I  got  it  pretty  well  figured 
out." 

"I'm  alius  gettin'  into  places  where  I've  got  to  back 
out,"  grumbled  Uncle  Joe.  "  Now  I  reckon  I'll  have  to 
tell  Patience  you're  too  young  an'  giddy  to  handle  my 
outfit.    An'  then  mebby  I'll  have  to  back  out  ag'in !    Tell 


-jG  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

you  one  thing,  this  here  Santa  Fe  trip  may  be  fine  for 
invalids,  but  it  ain't  done  my  health  no  good ! "  While 
Tom  laughed  at  him  he  considered.  "Huh!  I  don't 
reckon  it'll  be  a  good  thing  to  let  her  know  that  you  an' 
Armijo  are  as  friendly  as  a  Cheyenne  an'  a  Comanche. 
Cuss  it^  Oh,  well ;  put  away  this  gun  an'  come  on  in  an' 
eat,  if  there's  anything  left" 


CHAPTER  VI 

INDIANS  AND  GAMBLERS 

SHORTLY  after  noon  the  wind  died  down  enough  to 
let  the  packet  resume  her  up-stream  labors,  and  ex- 
pectations ran  high  that  she  would  make  a  long,  peaceful 
run.     They  were  not  to  be  realized. 

The  first  unpleasant  incident  occurred  when  the  boat 
had  been  run  against  a  bank  at  a  woodpile  to  replenish 
her  fuel.  The  lines  were  made  fast  and  the  first  of  the 
wood-carriers  had  reached  the  stacked  cordwood  when 
from  behind  it  arose  a  dozen  renegade  Indians,  willing 
to  turn  momentarily  from  their  horse-stealing  expedition 
long  enough  to  levy  a  tribute  of  firewater  on  the  boat. 
They  refused  to  allow  a  stick  to  be  removed  without 
either  a  fight  or  a  supply  of  liquor  and  trade  goods,  and 
the  leader  of  the  band  grappled  with  the  foremost  mem- 
ber of  the  crew  and  tried  to  drag  him  behind  the  shelter 
of  the  pile  and  so  gain  a  hostage  to  give  additional  weight 
to  their  demands  and  to  save  them  from  being  fired  on. 

Goaded  by  despair  and  fright  from  the  unexpectedness 
of  the  attack  and  what  might  be  in  store  for  him  the 
white  man  struggled  desperately  and,  with  the  return  of 
a  measure  of  calmness,  worked  a  neat  cross-buttock  on 
his  red  adversary  and  threw  him  sprawling  out  in  plain 
sight  of  the  boat.  Half  a  dozen  plainsmen  on  board  had 
leaped  for  their  rifles  and  shouted  the  alarm;  a  four 
pound  carronade  was  wheeled  swiftly  into  position  and  a 

n 


7%  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

charge  of  canister  sent  crashing  over  the  woodpile  into 
the  brush  and  trees.  The  roar  of  the  gun  and  the  racket 
caused  by  the  charge  as  it  rattled  through  the  branches 
and  brush  filled  the  savages  with  dismay  and,  not  daring 
to  run  from  the  pile  and  up  the  bank  under  the  cannon 
and  the  rapidly  augmented  rifles  on  the  decks  of  the  boat, 
they  raised  their  hands  and  slowly  emerged  from  their 
worthless  breastwork. 

Captain  Newell  shouted  frantic  instructions  to  his  grim 
and  accurate  volunteers,  ordering  and  begging  in  one 
breath  for  them  not  to  fire,  for  he  knew  that  bloodshed 
would  start  a  remorseless  sniping  warfare  along  the 
river  that  might  last  for  several  seasons.  At  such  a  game 
the  snipers  on  the  banks,  concealed  as  they  would  be, 
could  reasonably  be  expected  to  run  up  quite  a  list  of  cas- 
ualties on  the  boat.  This  was  no  new  experience  for  him 
and  he  knew  that  nothing  serious  would  grow  out  of  it 
as  long  as  none  of  the  Indians  were  injured.  This  little 
party  was  composed  of  the  renegade  scour ings  of  the 
frontier  tribes  which  had  been  debauched  by  their  contact 
with  the  liquor-selling  whites  and  they  were  more  fitted 
for  petty  thievery  than  the  role  of  warriors.  He  shouted 
and  argued  and  cursed  and  pleaded  with  the  eager  rifle- 
men, most  of  whom  burned  with  the  remembrance  of 
stolen  packs  of  furs  and  equipment  at  the  hands  of  such 
Indians  as  these. 

The  growling  plainsmen,  knowing  that  he  was  right 
and  understanding  his  position,  reluctantly  kept  their 
trigger  fingers  extended  and  finally  lowered  their  pieces, 
hoping  that  the  Indians  would  lose  their  heads  and  do 
some  overt  act ;  but  the  Indians  were  not  fools,  whatever 
else  they  might  have  been.  With  eager  alertness  on  one 


INDIANS   AND   GAMBLERS 79 

side  and  sullen  acquiescence  on  the  other  the  wooding 
was  finished,  ropes  cast  off  and  the  Missouri  Belle  pushed 
quickly  out  into  the  stream,  her  grim  faced  defenders 
manning  the  stern  decks  and  praying  for  an  excuse  to 
open  fire. 

No  sooner  had  a  reasonable  distance  been  opened  be- 
tween the  boat  and  the  bank  than  the  Indians,  at  a  signal 
from  their  leader,  leaped  behind  the  woodpile  and  opened 
fire  on  the  boat  with  muskets  and  bows  and  arrows,  the 
latter  weapons  far  more  accurate  than  the  miserable  trade 
guns  which  a  few  of  the  bravesi  carried.  With  them 
dropping  an  arrow  is  an  instinct  and  they  have  developed 
it  to  a  degree  that  is  remarkable,  to  say  the  least ;  while 
with  the  smooth-bore  trade  guns,  with  varying  charges 
of  trade  powder  and  sizes  of  balls,  they  were  poor  shots 
at  any  distance.  Instantly  two  score  rifles  replied  from 
the  boat,  pouring  their  leaden  hail  into  the  stacked  wood, 
but  without  any  noticeable  result;  and  before  a  second 
round  could  be  fired  the  distance  had  been  increased  to 
such  an  extent  that  only  one  or  two  excitable  tenderfeet 
tried  a  second  shot.  The  chief  result  of  the  incident  was 
the  breaking  of  the  monotony  of  the  trip  and  the  starting 
of  chains  of  reminiscences  among  the  hunters  and  trap- 
pers to  which  the  tenderfeet  listened  with  eager  ears. 

After  this  flurry  of  excitement  interest  slowly  swung 
far  astern,  where  the  American  Fur  Company's  boat  was 
supposed  to  be  breasting  the  current  on  her  long  voyage 
to  Fort  Union  and  beyond,  and  many  eyes  were  on  the 
lookout  for  a  glimpse  of  her  smoke.  A  sight  of  the 
boat  itself,  except  at  close  range,  was  almost  hopeless 
because  the  bends  in  the  river  were  so  numerous  and 
close  together  that  the  stream  seemed  like  a  narrow  lake. 


8o  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

The  surface  of  the  water  was  becoming  different  from 
what  it  had  been,  for  the  great  masses  of  floating  debris 
had  thinned  and  no  longer  came  down  in  raft-hke  forma- 
tions. This  was  due  to  the  rapid  falling  of  the  water, 
which  had  stranded  more  and  more  of  the  bulkier  drift 
and  piled  it  up  at  the  head  of  every  island,  emerging  bar 
and  jutting  point.  At  the  height  of  the  freshets,  espe- 
cially the  April  rise,  often  the  logs  and  trees  came  down 
so  thick  and  solid  that  they  resembled  floating  islands. 
This  was  in  large  measure  due  to  the  simultaneous  float- 
ing of  the  vast  accumulations  piled  up  all  along  the  banks, 
and  it  aroused  disgust  and  anxiety  in  the  hearts  of  the 
boatmen,  who  feared  for  hulls  and  paddle  wheels. 

The  harmless  brush  with  the  Indians  and  the  stories 
the  affair  had  started  quickened  interest  in  firearms,  and 
during  the  rest  of  the  afternoon  there  was  considerable 
target  practice  against  the  ducks,  geese,  and  debris,  and 
an  occasional  long  shot  at  some  animal  on  the  distant 
bank. 

Tom  Boyd  did  his  share  of  this,  glad  of  the  oppor- 
tunity to  try  out  his  new  and  strange  weapons,  and  to  put 
off  meeting  Patience  Cooper  as  long  as  he  could,  fearing 
her  attitude  concerning  his  fight  with  Schoolcraft.  He 
found  that  the  newly  marketed  Colt  six-shooter  was 
accurate  and  powerful  at  all  reasonable  ranges,  beauti- 
fully balanced  and  well  behaving.  It  attracted  a  great 
deal  of  attention  from  fellow  travelers,  for  it  was  not 
as  well-known  in  Missouri  as  it  was  in  other  parts  of 
the  country.  The  English  rifle,  not  much  heavier  than 
the  great  Hawken  weapons  of  his  companions,  despite 
its  two  barrels,  shot  true  and  strong,  and  the  two  ready 
shots  at  his  command  easily  recompensed  him  for  the 


INDIANS  AND   GAMBLERS  8i 

additional  weight.  At  this  time,  in  the  country  into 
which  he  was  going,  an  instantly  available  second  shot 
had  an  importance  not  to  be  overlooked.  To  the  Indians, 
especially,  was  it  disconcerting,  and  its  moral  effect  par- 
took of  the  nature  of  magic  and  made  a  white  man's 
** medicine"  that  demanded  and  received  a  wholesome 
respect.  He  found  that  it  followed  the  rough  and  ready 
rule  of  the  frontier  that  up  to  a  hundred  yards  the  proper 
charge  was  as  much  powder  as  would  cover  the  bullet 
in  the  palm  of  the  hand.  In  the  long  range  shots  the 
weapon  was  surprisingly  accurate,  and  one  thoughtful 
and  intelligent  hunter,  who  had  guided  several  English 
sporting  parties,  gave  the  credit  to  the  pointed  bullets. 

"Thar  ain't  no  doubt  about  it,  pardner,"  he  confided 
to  Tom  as  he  slyly  produced  his  own  bullet  mold,  and 
showed  it  to  his  companion.  "  I've  tried  'em  out  in  my 
own  rifle,  an'  they  shore  do  shoot  straighter  an'  further. 
This  hyar  mold  war  give  ter  me  by  a  city  hunter  I  had 
in  my  party  when  we  found  it  would  fit  my  rifle.  I 
ain't  usin'  th'  old  un  no  more.  Rub  a  leetle  b'ar  grease 
or  buffaler  tallow  on  th'  patch  paper,  young  man,  ter 
make  'em  go  down  easier.    Thar  good  beaver." 

The  sun  set  in  a  gold  and  crimson  glory,  working  its 
magic  metamorphosis  on  river,  banks,  and  bottoms, 
painting  the  colored  cliffs  and  setting  afire  the  crystals 
in  which  their  clay  was  rich.  Though  usually  the  scen- 
ery along  this  river  at  this  time  of  the  year  was  nothing- 
to  boast  of,  there  were  certain  conditions  under  which 
it  resembled  a  fairyland.  The  rolling  wavelets  bore  their 
changing  colors  across  the  glowing  water  and  set  dancing- 
myriad  flashes  of  sunlight;  streaks  of  sunlight  reached 
in  under  the  trees  along  the  bank  and  made  fairy  paths 


& ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

amongf  the  trunks,  while  the  imbedded  crystals  in  the 
clay  bluffs  glittered  in  thousands  of  pin-points  of  iri- 
descent flame. 

When  supper  time  came  around  Tom  still  felt  a  little 
reluctant  to  meet  Patience,  worried  by  how  she  might 
greet  him,  although  her  actions  preceding  the  fight  should 
have  told  him  that  his  fears  were  groundless.  To  his 
great  relief  she  met  him  as  graciously  as  she  had  before, 
and  as  a  matter  of  fact  he  thought  he  detected  a  little 
more  warmth  and  interest,  but  discounted  this  because  he 
feared  that  his  judgment  might  be  biased  in  his  favor  by 
his  hopes. 

Uncle  Joe  apparently  had  forgotten  all  about  the  affair 
and  did  not  refer  to  it  in  any  way,  confining  himself  to 
subjects  connected  with  the  great  southwest  highway,  its 
trade,  outfitting,  the  organization  of  the  caravans,  the 
merchandising  at  Santa  Fe  and  bits  of  historical  and 
personal  incidents,  not  forgetting  to  comment  on  the 
personality  of  Armijo  and  his  arbitrary  impost  of  five  ^ 
hundred  dollars  on  each  wagon  to  cross  the  boundary, 
regardless  of  what  its  contents  might  be.  He  chuckled 
over  the  impost,  for  the  goods  which  he  had  sent  up  to 
Independence  by  an  earlier  boat  had  been  selected  with 
that  tax  in  mind.  He  had  his  own  ideas  about  the  pay- 
ment of  the  impost,  and  although  he  could  not  entirely 
avoid  it,  he  intended  to  take  a  great  deal  of  the  sting  out 
of  it. 

He  contended  that  the  beating  of  unlawful  duties  was 
not  cheating,  since  it  was  purely  a  game  of  one  individual 
outwitting  another,  one  being  an  arbitrary  tyrant  who 
was  strongly  suspected  of  pocketing  the  wagon  tax  for 
his  own  uses.    The  only  trouble  with  his  philosophy  was 


INDIANS   AND   GAMBLERS  83 

what  it  set  going,  for  having  proved  one  evasion  of  tax 
to  be  honest  it  tended  to  go  farther  and  justify  other 
evasions  which  fairly  crossed  the  ethical  boundaries. 
One  of  these  was  the  rumored  prohibition  of  Mackinaw 
blankets  and  the  export  tax  on  specie.  This  last  would 
be  something  of  a  hardship,  for  coin  was  the  best  and 
most  easily  carried  of  all  mediums  of  payment,  and  the 
Mexican  government,  in  levying  this  tax,  would  tend  to 
force  the  traders  to  barter  rather  than  sell  their  goods. 
If  payment  were  had  in  specie,  the  wagons  could  be  dis- 
ix>sed  of  at  a  fair  profit  and  mules  used  to  pack  it  back 
to  Missouri.  When  sewed  tightly  in  rawhide  bags  it  be- 
came an  unshifting  mass  by  the  shrinking  of  the  leather 
under  the  rays  of  the  sun.  Some  of  the  traders  took 
mules  in  exchange  for  their  goods  which,  if  they  could 
be  safely  delivered  in  the  Missouri  settlements,  would 
give  an  additional  profit  of  no  mean  per  centum;  but 
losses  in  mules  were  necessarily  suffered  on  the  long 
return  trip,  and  the  driving,  corralling,  and  guarding  of 
a  herd  was  a  task  to  try  the  patience  of  a  saint  and  the 
ingenuity  of  the  devil.  The  Indians  would  take  almost 
any  kind  of  chances  to  stampede  a  herd  of  mules,  and 
they  were  adepts  at  the  game. 

Uncle  Joe  had  been  over  the  trail,  having  gone  out 
with  that  band  of  Missourians  who  took  the  first  wagons 
across  from  Franklin  in  1824,  and  he  had  kept  in  close 
touch  with  the  New  Mexican  and  Chihuahuan  trade 
ever  since.  He  knew  the  tricks,  and  had  invented  some 
of  his  own,  which  he  guarded  well.  For  the  despotic 
Armijo  he  had  a  vast  contempt,  which  was  universal 
among  the  great  majority  of  the  men  who  knew  any- 
thing at  all  about  the  cruel,  conceited,  and  dishonest  Gov- 


84  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

ernor  of  the  Department  of  New  Mexico.  The  unfortu- 
nate Texan  Santa  Fe  Expedition  had  aroused  bitter 
feehngs  among  Americans  and  Texans  against  the  Mex- 
ican, many  of  them  having  had  friends  and  relatives  in 
that  terrible  winter  march  of  two  thousand  miles  on  foot 
from  Santa  Fe  to  the  City  of  Mexico,  which  followed  so 
close  upon  the  heart-breaking  and  disastrous  northward 
march  from  Texas  to  a  vile  betrayal  and  barbarous  treat- 
ment. Anything  American  or  Texas  plainsmen  could  do 
to  hurt  or  discredit  the  inhuman  pomposity  whose  rise 
to  power  had  been  through  black  treachery  and  coldly 
planned  murder,  would  be  done  with  enthusiastic  zeal. 

At  the  close  of  the  leisurely  eaten  meal  they  went  on 
deck  in  time  to  see  the  John  Auld  round  the  next  up- 
stream bend  and  forge  forward,  soon  stopping,  however, 
to  drift  past  the  slowed  Missouri  Belle  while  their  pilots 
exchanged  terse  information  about  the  channels  and 
snags.  The  John  Auld  carried  a  small  cargo  of  fur  packs 
on  her  main  deck  and  a  few  free  hunters  and  trappers 
on  their  way  to  St.  Louis  to  dispose  of  their  goods  and  to 
outfit  anew.  By  this  time  the  fur  of  the  pelts  slipped  and 
the  fur  taking  season  was  over,  but  there  was  always  the 
buffalo  to  lure  them  afield  again. 

The  evening  was  delightful  and  hopes  ran  high  for  an 
uninterrupted  voyage.  Uncle  Joe  expressed  the  belief 
that  the  boat  would  run  all  night  in  view  of  the  favorable 
weather;  Tom  demurring  on  the  grounds  of  the  rapidly 
falling  river  and  the  blackness  of  the  nights.  The  boat 
curved  sharply  to  avoid  a  jutting  bar  and  straightened 
out  again.  Prompted  by  sight  of  some  of  the  passengers 
who  promenaded  past  them  the  talk  swung  to  the  fur 
trade  in  general  and  to  the  end  of  it,  which  was  rapidly 


INDIANS  AND   GAMBLERS  85 

being  brought  nearer  by  the  great  tide  of  emigration 
setting  in.  Discussions  regarding  the  emigrants  and  the 
great  Oregon  Trail  followed  as  a  matter  of  course  and 
almost  before  they  knew  it  it  was  time  for  Patience  to 
retire,  and  her  companions  soon  followed  her  example, 
Uncle  Joe  foregoing  his  usual  night  game. 

When  morning  broke  they  found  that  they  had  sailed 
nearly  all  the  night,  and  the  boat  kept  on  all  day,  stopping 
only  at  a  few  landings  and  to  take  on  wood,  of  which 
she  burned  an  amazing  quantity.  Another  night's  run 
brought  them  well  up  the  river,  but  the  following  day 
found  them  tied  to  a  bank,  because  of  adverse  weather. 
In  the  afternoon,  the  wind  dying  out,  they  were  on  the 
way  again  and  another  night's  sail  was  looked  for. 
Patience  retired  earlier  than  usual  and  when  Tom  re- 
turned from  seeing  her  safely  into  her  room  he  found 
Uncle  Joe  impatiently  waiting  for  him. 

**  Come  on,  Tom,"  said  the  merchant.  "  I've  still  got 
a  lot  to  learn  about  gamblin'  an'  there  ain't  much  time 
left  to  do  it  in.  Let's  go  back  an'  see  if  there's  a  game 
runnin'.  I  might  as  well  let  somebody  else  pay  th'  ex- 
penses of  this  trip." 

Tom  nodded  and  followed  his  companion  into  the 
cabin  set  apart  for  men  and  sat  down  at  a  table  with  two 
trappers,  from  where  he  could  watch  the  game  at  close 
range,  for  he  realized  that  the  time  for  the  gamblers  to 
get  the  merchant's  money  also  was  getting  short.  Under 
the  conditions  almost  anything  might  occur  and  he  felt 
that  he  owed  a  debt  to  his  friend  for  the  part  he  had 
played  during  the  fight  with  Schoolcraft. 

Uncle  Joe  joined  Stevens  and  a  companion,  who  were 
idly  playing  and  who  seemed  to  be  impatiently  and  ner- 


86 "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

vously  waiting  for  his  appearance;  soon  a  tense  game 
was  in  progress.  At  a  table  in  a  corner  from  where  the 
players  could  be  closely  watched  Ephriam  Schoolcraft, 
his  face  still  badly  bruised,  was  talking  in  sullen  under- 
tones to  the  little  Mexican  and  another  companion,  while 
hunters,  traders,  trappers,  and  men  of  various  other  call- 
ings kept  up  a  low  hum  of  conversation  throughout  the 
cabin. 

From  one  group  came  fragments  of  fur  trade  gossip : 
"  Th'  American  Fur  Company's  talkin'  about  abandonin' 
Fort  Van  Buren.  Thar's  been  a  lot  o'  posts  let  go  to 
grass  th'  last  two  years.  Th'  business  ain't  what  it  was 
ten  year  ago.'* 

"On  th'  other  hand/*  replied  a  companion,  "Fox  an' 
Livingston  air  goin'  fer  to  put  up  a  post  at  th'  mouth  o' 
th'  Little  Bighorn,  which  evens  up  fer  Van  Buren;  an' 
Chardon's  aimin*  fer  to  put  one  up  at  th*  mouth  o'  th' 
Judith.  Th*  trade's  all  right,  only  th*  American's  got 
more  buckin*  agin*  it.** 

"  *Tain't  what  it  onct  was,  though,**  said  a  third  trader. 
"  Thar's  too  many  posts  an'  private  parties.  Ye  can't  go 
nowhere  hardly  in  th*  Injun  country  without  comin*  slap 
up  ag'in  a  post  o'  some  kind.  Thar's  Zack:  hey,  Zack! 
Come  over  hyar  1" 

Zack,  a  mountain  hunter  and  a  free  one,  swung  over 
and  joined  the  group. 

"Jest  been  palaverin*  with  some  Canucks,"  he  said. 
"  Fur's  I  could  git  th*  hang  o'  thar  parley-vouz  thar  goin' 
up  ter  help  open  Fort  William,  at  th*  mouth  o*  th*  Yaller- 
stun,  fer  Fox  an*  Livingston.  They  sez  Pratte  an*  Ca- 
banne  had  took  over  Fort  Platte,  up  nigh  th*  Laramie. 
How  fur  ye  goin*  on  this  packet,  Smith  ?  *' 


INDIANS  AND   GAMBLERS  87 

"Bellevue,"  answered  Smith.  "Tm  headin'  up  th' 
Platte  a-ways,  if  th'  danged  Pawnees  let  me  git  past. 
Pardner's  waitin'  near  th'  mouth  with  a  bullboat. 
Reckon  we  kin  count  on  enough  water,  this  time  o'  year, 
fer  ter  float  that;  'though  I  shore  ain't  bettin'  on  it,"  he 
chuckled. 

Zack  laughed.  "  Th'  Platte  shore  comes  close  ter  bein' 
all  shadder  an'  no  substance.  Dangest  stream  /  ever 
seen,  an*  I've  seen  a-plenty." 

"  Don't  think  a  hull  lot  o'  that  country,  nohow,"  said 
a  third.  "  Them  Pawnees  air  th'  worst  thieves  an'  mur- 
derers this  side  o'  th'  Comanchees.  They  kin  steal  yer 
shirt  without  techin'  yer  coat,  danged  if  they  can't. 
Blast  'em,  I  know  'em ! " 

Zack  laughed  shortly.  "They  ain't  nowhar  with  th' 
Crows  when  it  comes  ter  stealin',"  he  averred. 

Smith  chuckled  again.  "  Yer  right,  Zack.  He's  pizen 
set  ag'in  'em  ever  sence  they  stole  his  packs  an'  everythin* 
that  wasn't  a-hangin'  ter  him.  'Twarn't  much  o'  a  walk 
he  had,  though,  only  a  couple  hundred  miles." 

"  Ye  kin  bet  I'm  pizen  ag'in  'em  sence  then,"  retorted 
the  Pawnee-hater  vehemently.  "  If  I  tuk  scalps  I  could 
show  ye  somethin'.  They've  paid  a  lot  fer  what  they 
stole  that  time." 

From  another  group  came  the  mention  of  a  name 
which  took  Tom's  instant  attention. 

"I  hears  Ol'  Jim  Bridger's  quit  tradin'  in  furs  as  a 
reg'Iar  thing,"  said  the  voice.  "  They  say  he's  gone  in  fer 
tinkerin*  an'  outfittin'  up  nigh  Teton  Pass.  Got  a  fust 
rate  post  too,  they  say." 

"Tinkerin'  what?"  demanded  a  listener.  "What  kin 
he  outfit  'way  up  thar  ?  " 


88 "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

"  Emigrants ! "  snorted  the  first  speaker.  "  Figgers  on 
sellin*  'em  supplies  an'  sich,  an'  repairin'  fer  'em  at  his 
smithy.  I  shore  reckon  they'll  need  him  a  hull  lot  more'n 
he'll  need  them.  That's  a  long  haul  fer  wagons,  tender- 
feet's  'spacially — Independence  ter  th'  Divide — 'though 
it  ain't  what  it  was  when  Hunt  an'  Crooks  went  out 
thirty  year  ago." 

"  No,  'tain't,"  replied  a  third  man.  "  An'  it's  a  lucky 
thing  fer  th'  tender  feet  that  Nat  Wyeth  went  an'  built 
Fort  Hall  whar  he  did,  even  if  'twas  fer  th'  Hudson  Bay. 
I'm  tellin'  ye  these  hyar  emigrants  would  be  stayin'  ter 
home  from  Oregon  an'  Calif orny  if  'twarn't  fer  what  us 
trappers  has  did  fer  th'  country.  Thar  ain't  nary  a  trail 
that  we  didn't  locate  fer  'em." 

The  first  man  nodded.  "Not  mentionin'  th'  Injuns 
afore  us,  we  found  thar  roads,  passes,  an'  drinkin'  water 
fer  'em;  an'  now  thar  flockin'  in  ter  spile  our  business. 
One  thing,  though,  thar  goin'  straight  acrost,  most  on 
'em.    It  could  be  a  hull  lot  worse." 

While  Tom's  ears  caught  bits  of  the  conversation 
round-about  his  eyes  paid  attention  to  the  gambhng  table 
and  on  two  occasions  he  half  arose  from  his  chair  to 
object  profanely  to  the  way  Stevens  played;  but  each 
time  he  was  not  quite  sure.  On  the  third  occasion  one  of 
the  trappers  glanced  at  him,  smiled  grimly,  and  nodded 
at  the  hard-pressed  gambler. 

"  Th'  fur  trade  ain't  th'  only  skin  game,  young  feller," 
he  softly  said.    "OF  man  a  friend  o'  yourn?" 

Tom  nodded  and  watched  more  closely,  and  a  moment 
later  he  stiffened  again. 

"  Why,  h  —  1 ! "  growled  the  trapper,  sympathizing  with 
one  of  his  own  calling.    ''  Go  fur  him,  young  feller,  an' 


INDIANS  AND   GAMBLERS 89 

chuck  him  inter  th'  river!  I'll  hold  off  his  pardner  fer 
ye!" 

An  older  trapper  sauntered  over  and  seated  himself 
at  Tom's  side.  "  Been  watchin'  them  fer  quite  a  spell," 
he  said  in  a  low  voice.  "  Ain't  that  ol'  feller  St.  Louis 
Joe?" 

Tom  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  saw  a  great  light. 
Who  hadn't  heard  of  St.  Louis  Joe?  His  new  friend's 
love  of  gambling,  and  his  success  against  Stevens  and 
his  crowd  would  be  accounted  for  if  the  trapper  was 
right.  He  glanced  at  the  speaker  and  replied:  "Don't 
know.  I  never  saw  him  till  I  crossed  th'  levee  at  St. 
Louis  jest  afore  we  sailed." 

"  Looks  a  heap  like  him,  anyhow,"  muttered  the  new- 
comer. "  Fair  an'  squar,  he  war.  I  seen  him  play  when 
I  war  goin'  down  to  N' Orleans,  ten  year  ago.  Never 
f ergit  a  face,  an'  I  shore  remember  his,  fer  he  war  playin' 
that  time  fer  'most  all  th'  money  in  th'  Mississippi  Valley, 
I  reckon.  Consarn  it,  I  know  it's  him!  Fer  ol'  times' 
sake,  if  he  gits  inter  trouble  with  that  skunk,  I'm  with 
him  ter  th'  hilt."  He  started  to  leave  the  table,  thought 
better  of  it  and  slid  forward  to  the  edge  of  his  chair. 
"He's  bein*  cheated  blind.  I  saw  that  skunk  palm  a 
card!" 

Tom  nodded,  his  hand  resting  on  his  belt,  but  he  did 
not  take  his  eyes  from  the  game.  He  suspected  that 
Uncle  Joe  was  pretty  well  informed  about  what  was 
going  on  and  would  object  when  it  suited  him. 

The  first  trapper  leaned  over  the  table  and  whispered 
to  his  friend.  "  This  young  feller  is  watchin'  the  cheat, 
an'  I'm  watchin'  th'  pardner.  You  might  keep  an  eye 
on  that  Independence  hoss-thief  over  thar — that  feller 


90 "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

with  th'  raw  meat  face,  that  this  youngster  gave  him. 
From  th*  way  he's  lookin'  thar  ain't  no  tellin'  how  this 
hyar  party  is  goin'  ter  bust  up." 

The  second  plainsman  nodded  and  after  a  moment 
dropped  his  pipe  on  the  floor.  He  shifted  in  his  chair 
as  he  reached  down  for  it  and  when  he  sat  up  again  he 
was  in  a  little  different  position,  and  not  a  thing  at 
Schoolcraft's  table  escaped  his  eyes. 

"I'll  take  th'  greaser  'longside  him,"  muttered  the 
third  plainsman.  "  W'ich  is  a  plain  duty  an'  a  pleasure. 
Bet  ye  a  plew  I  nail  him  atween  his  eyes,  fust  crack,  if 
he  gits  hostile." 

Suddenly  there  came  a  loud  smack  as  Uncle  Joe's  left 
hand  smashed  down  on  the  cards  in  Stevens'  hand,  hold- 
ing them  against  the  table  while  his  right  hand  flashed 
under  the  partly  buttoned  edge  of  his  long  frock  coat.  It 
hung  there,  struggling  with  something  in  the  inside 
pocket.  Stevens  had  jerked  his  own  hand  loose,  relin- 
quishing the  cards,  and  with  the  sharp  motion  a  small, 
compact  percussion  pistol  slid  out  of  his  sleeve  and  into 
his  grasp  as  his  hand  stopped.  He  was  continuing  the 
motion,  swinging  the  weapon  up  and  forward  when  Tom, 
leaning  suddenly  forward  in  his  chair,  sent  his  heavy 
skinning  knife  flashing  through  the  air.  The  first  trapper 
had  thrown  a  pistol  down  on  the  gambler's  partner,  the 
second  stopped  Ephriam  Schoolcraft's  attempted  draw 
against  Tom,  and  the  third  plainsman  was  peering 
eagerly  along  the  barrel  of  his  pistol  at  a  spot  between 
the  Mexican's  eyes.  Had  it  been  a  well  rehearsed  act 
things  could  not  have  happened  quicker  or  smoother. 

Not  five  other  persons  in  the  cabin  had  any  intimation 
of  what  was  coming  until  Tom's  knife,  flying  butt  firs* 


INDIANS  AND   GAMBLERS  '   91 

r 

through  the  air,  knocked  the  pistol  from  Stevens*  hand. 
The  weapon  struck  the  floor  and  exploded,  the  bullet 
passing  through  a  cabin  window.  As  the  knife  left  his 
hand  the  thrower  had  leaped  after  it  and  he  grabbed  the 
desperate  gambler  in  a  grip  against  which  it  was  useless 
to  struggle.  Uncle  Joe,  loosening  his  hold  on  the  pocket 
pistol  tangled  in  the  lining  of  his  coat,  leaped  around 
the  table  and  quickly  passed  his  hands  over  the  clothing 
of  the  prisoner. 

"What's  th'  trouble  here?"  demanded  the  quick, 
authoritative  voice  of  the  captain  as  he  ran  in  from  the 
deck.     "Who  fired  that  shot,  an'  why?" 

He  soon  was  made  familiar  with  the  whole  affair  and 
stepped  to  the  table,  picked  up  the  cards  and  spread  them 
for  everyone  to  see.  Asking  a  few  questions  of  disin- 
terested eye-witnesses,  he  looked  about  the  cabin  and 
spoke. 

"I've  nothing  k)  say  about  gambling  on  this  boat  as 
long  as  gentlemen  play,"  he  said  sharply.  "When  the 
play  is  crooked,  /  take  a  hand.  I  can't  overlook  this." 
He  motioned  to  the  group  of  boat  hands  crowding  about 
the  door  and  they  took  hold  of  Stevens  and  his  partner. 
"  Take  these  men  and  get  their  effects,  and  then  put  them 
ashore  in  the  yawl.  I'll  have  provisions  put  aboard  while 
you're  gone.  Stevens,  due  south  not  many  miles  is  the 
St.  Louis-Independence  wagon  road.  It  is  heavily  trav- 
eled this  time  of  the  year.  You  can't  miss  it.  Besides 
that  there  are  numerous  cabins  scattered  about  the  bot- 
toms, and  not  far  up-stream  is  a  settlement.  Take  'em 
away."  Glancing  over  the  cabin  again  and  letting  his 
eyes  rest  for  a  moment  on  Ephriam  Schoolcraft,  he 
wheeled  and  started  for  the  door,  but   paused   as    he 


92  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

reached  it.  "If  there's  any  further  trouble  I'll  be  on  the 
hurricane  deck,  for'rd.  We're  going  to  run  all  night  if 
we  can.  I  don't  want  any  more  disturbance  on  this 
packet." 

As  the  captain  left,  Uncle  Joe  thanked  Tom  and  the 
trappers  and  joined  them  at  their  table,  providing  the 
refreshment  most  liked  by  the  plainsmen,  and  the  remi- 
niscences became  so  interesting  that  the  little  group 
scarcely  noticed  Tom  arise  and  leave  it.  He  was  too  rest- 
less to  stay  indoors  and  soon  found  a  place  to  his  liking 
on  the  deck  below,  near  the  bow,  where  he  paced  to  and 
fro  in  the  darkness,  wrestling  with  a  tumult  of  hopes 
and  fears.  Reaching  one  end  of  his  beat,  he  wheeled 
and  started  back  again,  and  as  he  passed  the  cabin  door 
he  suddenly  stopped  and  peered  at  the  figure  framed  in 
the  opening,  and  tore  off  his  hat,  too  surprised  to  speak. 

"Mr.  Boyd?"  came  a  soft,  inquiring,  and  anxious 
voice. 

"Yes,  Miss  Cooper;  but  I  thought  you  were  fast 
asleep  long  ago ! " 

"I  was,"  she  replied;  "but  something  that  sounded 
like  a  shot  awakened  me,  and  thinking  that  it  seemed  to 
come  from  the  card  tables,  I  became  fearful  and  dressed 
as  hurriedly  as  I  could  in  the  dark.  Is  —  is  Uncle  Joe 
—  all  right?" 

"In  good  health,  good  company,  and  in  the  best  of 
spirits,"  replied  Tom,  smiling  at  how  the  last  word  might 
be  interpreted.  "I  left  him  only  a  moment  ago,  swap- 
ping tales  with  some  trappers." 

"But  the  shot.  Surely  it  was  a  shot  that  awakened 
me?" 

Tom  chuckled.     "Sleeve  pistol  fell  to  the  floor  and 


INDIANS  AND   GAMBLERS  93 

went  off  accidentally,"  he  explained.  "Luckily  no  one 
was  hurt,  for  the  ball  passed  out  of  a  window  and  went 
over  the  river.  Are  you  warm  enough?  This  wind  is 
cutting."  At  her  assent  he  took  a  step  forward.  "I'll 
see  you  to  your  room  if  you  wish." 

"I'm  too  wide  awake  now  to  sleep  for  awhile,"  she 
replied,  joining  him.    "  Didn't  the  boat  stop?" 

"Yes;  two  passengers  went  ashore  in  the  yawl,"  he 
answered.  "  These  packets  are  certainly  accommodating 
and  deserve  patronage.  Why,  Miss  Cooper,  you're  shiv- 
ering !    Are  you  sure  you  are  warm  enough  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  answered.  "  Something  is  bothering  me. 
I  don't  know  what  it  is.  I  wish  we  were  at  Independence 
though.  Day  and  night  this  river  fascinates  me  and 
almost  frightens  me.  It  is  so  swift,  so  treacherous,  so 
changeful.  It  reminds  me  of  some  great  cat,  slipping 
through  a  jungle;  and  I  can't  throw  the  feeling  off.  If 
you  don't  mind,  I'll  join  you  in  your  sentry-go,  you  seem 
to  give  me  the  assurance  I  lack;  but  perhaps  I'll  interfere 
with  your  thoughts  ?  " 

"Hardly  that,"  he  laughed,  thrilling  as  she  took  his 
arm  for  safety  against  stumbles  in  the  dark.  "You 
stimulate  them,  instead.  I  really  was  pacing  off  a  fit  of 
restlessness;  but  it's  gone  now.  Look  here;  I  wonder  if 
you  fully  realize  the  certain  hardships  and  probable 
.dangers  of  the  overland  journey  you  are  about  to 
make?" 

"Perfectly,  Mr.  Boyd,"  she  answered,  quietly. 
"  You'll  find  me  a  different  person  on  land.  I  underesti- 
mate nothing,  but  hope  for  the  best.  From  little  things 
I've  picked  up  here  and  there  I  really  believe  that  the 
riangers  of  the  trail  will  be  incidental  when  compared 


94 "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

with  those  at  the  other  end — at  Santa  Fe.  I  have  reason 
to  believe  that  father  has  had  a  great  deal  of  trouble, 
along  with  other  Americans,  with  Governor  Armijo. 
Why  is  it  that  American  citizens  are  insulted  with  im- 
punity by  Mexican  officials  ?  I  understand  that  an  Eng- 
lishman may  safely  travel  from  one  end  of  Mexico  to 
the  other,  secure  from  annoyance,  unless  it  be  at  the 
hands  of  Indians  over  whom  the  government  exercises 
but  little  control." 

"Ifs  a  universal  complaint  along  the  frontier,"  he 
replied.  "It  seems  to  be  the  policy  of  this  country  to 
avoid  hurting  the  sensibilities  of  any  vicious  officialdom 
or  ignorant  populace.  We  seem  to  prefer  to  have  our 
citizens  harassed,  insulted,  and  denied  justice,  rather 
than  assert  unequivocally  that  the  flag  goes  in  spirit  with 
every  one  of  us  so  long  as  we  obey  the  laws  of  any 
country  we  are  in.  If  it  were  not  for  the  banding  togeth- 
er of  the  American  traders  and  merchants  in  Santa  Fe, 
it  would  be  very  hazardous  for  an  American  to  remain 
there.  Armijo  has  had  a  few  clashes  with  our  people 
and  is  beginning  to  have  a  little  respect  for  their  deter- 
mination and  ability  to  defend  their  rights.  Since  the 
sufferings  of  the  Texans  have  become  known,  there  are 
any  number  of  Americans  in  frontier  garb  who  would 
cheerfully  choke  him  to  death.  It  would  be  a  godsend 
to  the  New  Mexican  people  if " 

There  came  a  terrific  crash,  the  boat  stopped  suddenly 
and  the  deck  arose  under  their  feet  as  a  huge  log  smashed 
up  through  it.  They  were  torn  apart  and  thrown  down, 
and  as  Tom  scrambled  to  his  feet,  calling  his  com- 
panion's name,  he  felt  a  great  relief  surge  through  him 
as  he  heard  her  answer. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  WRECKING  OF  THE    MISSOURI  BELLB 

TOM  grasped  his  companion's  arm  and  hurried  her 
toward  the  place  where  the  yawl  was  tied  as  shouts, 
curses,  tearing  wood  and  a  panic-stricken  crowd  of  pas- 
sengers pouring  out  of  the  cabins  and  rooms  turned  the 
night  into  a  pandemonium,  over  which  the  hysterical 
blasts  of  the  whistle  bellowed  its  raucous  calls  for  help 
far  and  wide  across  water  and  land.  There  came  a  rush 
of  feet  and  several  groups  of  passengers  dashed  toward 
the  yawl,  but  stopped  abruptly  and  hesitated  as  the  Colt 
in  Tom's  hand  glinted  coldly  in  the  soft  light  of  a  cabin 
window. 

"Women  first!"  he  snarled,  savage  as  an  animal  at 
bay.  "  I'll  kill  th'  first  man  that  comes  any  closer !  Get 
those  bullboats  overside,  an'  somebody  round  up  th'  other 
women  an'  bring  'em  here!  Keep  cool,  an'  everybody'll 
be  saved  —  lose  yore  heads  an'  we'll  all  die,  some  quick- 
er'n  others !    Not  another  step  forward ! " 

"  Right  ye  air,  friend,"  said  a  voice,  and  Zack,  pistol 
in  hand,  dropped  from  the  deck  above  and  alighted  at 
Tom's  side  like  a  fighting  bobcat.  "  Put  over  them  bull- 
boats — an'  be  shore  ye  get  hold  o'  th'  ropes  when  ye  do. 
Lady!"  he  shouted,  catching  sight  of  an  emigrant  and 
his  wife.  "Come  hyar!  An'  you,"  he  commanded  her 
husband,  "stan  by  us  —  shoot  ter  kill  if  ye  pulls  trigger. 
Fine  bunch  o'  cattle ! "  he  sneered,  and  the  rapidly  grow- 

95 


96  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

ing  crowd,  finding  that  the  guns  facing  them  did  noi 
waver,  turned  and  stampeded  for  the  bullboats,  every 
man  of  it  bellowing  orders  and  getting  in  the  way  of 
everyone  else.  There  came  a  splash,  a  chorus  of  curses 
as  a  bullboat,  thrown  overboard  upside  down,  slipped 
away  in  the  darkness. 

"Right  side  up,  ye  tarnation  fools!"  roared  a  voice, 
accompanied  by  a  solid  smash  as  a  hunter  near  the  boats 
knocked  down  a  frantic  freighter  and  took  charge  of  the 
mob.  "Fm  fixin'  fer  to  kill  somebody!"  he  yelled. 
"  Hang  outer  that  rope  or  I'll  spatter  yer  brains  all  over 
creation!  Right  side  up,  damn  ye!  Hold  her!  Thar! 
Now  then,  put  over  another  —  if  ye  git  in  that  boat  till 
I  says  so  ye  won't  have  no  need  fer  it ! " 

Friends  coming  to  his  aid  helped  him  hold  the  milling 
mob,  and  their  coolness  and  determination,  tried  in  many 
ticklish  situations,  stood  them  in  good  stead. 

"Ask  th'  captain  how  bad  she  is!"  shouted  Tom  as 
he  caught  sight  of  Joe  Cooper  tearing  through  the  crowd 
like  a  madman.  "I  got  Patience  an'  another  woman 
here!" 

*'  I  might  'a'  known  it,"  yelled  Uncle  Joe,  fighting  back 
the  way  he  had  come.  In  a  moment  he  returned  and 
shouted  until  the  frantic  crowd  gave  him  heed.  "Cap'n 
says  she  can't  sink!  Cap'n  says  she  can't  sink!  Listen, 
damn  ye!  Cap'n  says  she  can't  sink.  He's  groundin' 
her  on  a  bar !  Keep  'em  out  of  them  boats,  boys !  Don't 
let  them  fools  get  in  th'  boats!  Not  till  th'  very  last 
thing!    They'll  only  swamp  'em." 

"Grood  fer  you,  St.  Louis!"  roared  a  mountaineer, 
playing  with  a  skinning  knife  in  most  suggestive  manner. 

"  Th'  boilers'll  blow  up  I    Th'  boilers'll  blow  up !    Look 


THE  WRECKING  OF  THE  MISSOURI  BELLE    97 

out  for  th'  boilers ! "  yelled  a  tenderfoot,  fighting  to  get 
to  the  boats.     "They'll  blow  up!    They'll  blow " 

Zack  took  one  swift  step  sideways  and  brought  the 
butt  of  his  pistol  down  on  the  jumping  jack's  head. 
"  Let  'em  blow,  sister !  '*  he  shouted.  ''  You  won't  hear 
'em!  Any  more  scared  o'  th'  boilers?"  he  yelled,  facing 
the  crowd  menacingly.  "They  won't  blow  up  till  th' 
water  gits  to  'em,  an'  when  it  does  we'll  all  be  knee-deep 
in  it.    Thar  on  this  hyar  deck,  ye  sheep ! " 

One  man  was  running  around  in  a  circle  not  five  feet 
across,  moaning  and  blubbering.  Tom  glanced  at  him 
as  he  came  around  and  stepped  quickly  forward,  his 
foot  streaking  out  and  up.  It  caught  the  human  pin- 
wheel  on  the  chest  and  he  turned  a  beautiful  back  flip 
into  the  crowd.  Zack's  booming  laugh  roared  out  over  the 
water  and  he  slapped  Tom  resoundingly  on  the  shoulder. 

"  More  fun  right  hyar  than  in  a  f ree-f er-all  at  a  winter 
rendyvoo,  pardner.  You  kick  wuss  nor  a  mule.  An' 
whar  you  goin'  ?  "  he  asked  a  tin-horn  gambler  who  took 
advantage  of  his  lapse  of  alertness  to  dart  past  him. 
Zack  swung  his  stiff  arm  and  the  gambler  bounced  back 
as  though  he  had  been  struck  with  a  club.  "  Thar's 
plenty  o'  it  hyar  if  yer  lookin'  fer  it,"  he  shouted,  raising 
his  pistol. 

Uncle  Joe  clawed  his  way  back  again,  Tom's  double- 
barreled  rifle  in  his  hands,  and  grimly  took  his  place  at 
his  friend's  side.  Suddenly  he  cocked  his  head  and  then 
heard  Tom's  voice  bellow  past  his  ear. 

"Listen,  you  fools!  Th'  fur  boat!  Th'  fur  boat!" 
he  yelled  at  the  top  of  his  lungs.  His  companions  and 
the  other  little  group  of  resolute  men  took  up  the  cry, 
and  as  the  furor  of  the  crowd  died  down,  the  answering 


98  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

blasts  rolled  up  the  river.  Suddenly  a  light,  and  then  an 
orderly  series  of  them  pushed  out  from  behind  the  last 
bend  down-stream,  and  showers  of  sparks  from  the 
belching  stacks  of  the  oncoming  fur  company  boat  danced 
and  whirled  high  into  the  night,  the  splashing  tattoo  of  her 
churning  paddles  sounding  like  music  between  the  reassur- 
ing blasts  of  her  whistle.  The  two  stokers  hanging  from 
the  levers  of  her  safety  valves  kicked  their  feet  in  time 
with  her  whistle,  not  knowing  which  kick  would  usher 
them  on  an  upward  journey  ending  at  St.  Peter's  eager 
gate.  Their  skins  were  as  black  as  the  rods  they  swung 
from,  but  their  souls  were  as  white  as  their  rolling  eyes. 

"Thank  God!''  screamed  a  woman  who  was  fighting 
her  way  through  the  crowd  toward  Tom's  post,  her 
clothing  nearly  torn  from  her;  and  at  the  words  she 
sagged  to  the  deck,  inert,  unresisting.  Tom  leaped  for- 
ward and  hauled  her  back  with  him,  passed  her  on  to 
Patience  and  resumed  his  grim  guard. 

A  great  shout,  still  tinged  with  horror  and  edged  with 
fear,  arose  from  the  decks  of  the  Belle  and  thundered 
across  the  river,  the  answering  roar  chopped  up  by  the 
insistent  whistle.  Several  red,  stringy,  rapier-like  flashes 
pierced  the  night  and  the  heavy  reports  barked  across 
the  hurrying  water,  to  be  juggled  by  a  great  cliff  on  the 
north  bank. 

Captain  Newell  had  been  busy.  Learning  that  cool 
minds  were  dominating  the  panicky  crowd,  and  that  the 
bullboats  were  being  properly  launched  and  were  ready 
for  use  if  the  worst  came,  he  gave  his  undivided  attention 
to  the  saving  of  the  Belle.  Her  paddle  still  thrashed, 
but  at  a  speed  just  great  enough  to  overcome  the  current 
and  to  hold  the  snag  in  the  wound  it  had  made.     Expe- 


THE  WRECKING  OF  THE  MISSOURI  BELLE    99 

rience  told  him  that  once  she  drew  back  from  that  sHmy 
assassin  blade  and  fully  opened  the  rent  in  her  hull  her 
sinking  would  follow  swiftly.  Already  men  had  sounded 
the  river  on  both  sides  and  reported  a  steep  slant  to 
the  bottom,  twenty  feet  of  water  on  the  port  side  and 
fifteen  on  the  starboard.  One  of  the  spare  yawls, 
manned  by  two  officers  and  a  deck  hand,  shot  away  from 
the  boat  and  made  hurried  soundings  to  starboard,  the 
called  depths  bringing  a  look  of  hope  to  the  captain's 
face.  Forty  yards  to  the  right  lay  a  nearly  flat  bar ;  but 
could  he  make  that  forty  yards?  There  remained  no 
choice  but  to  try,  for  while  the  Missouri  Belle,  if  she 
sank  in  her  present  position,  would  not  be  entirely  sub- 
merged, she  would  be  even  less  so  every  foot  she  made 
toward  the  shallows. 

Part  of  the  crew  already  had  weighted  one  edge  of  a 
buffalo  hide  and  stood  in  the  bow,  directly  over  the  snag, 
which  luckily  had  pierced  the  hull  more  above  than  below 
the  water  line.  The  captain  signalled  and  the  great 
paddle  wheel  turned  swiftly  full  speed  astern.  The 
grating,  splitting  sound  of  the  snag  leaving  the  hull  was 
followed  by  a  shouted  order  and  the  hide  was  lowered 
overside  and  instantly  sucked  against  the  rent;  and  the 
paddle  wheel,  quickly  reversing,  pushed  the  boat  ahead 
at  an  angle  to  the  current  until,  low  in  the  water,  she 
grounded  solidly  on  the  edge  of  the  flat  bar.  Anchors 
were  set  and  cables  made  taut  while  the  Belle  settled 
firmly  on  the  sandy  bottom  and  rested  almost  on  an  even 
keel.  There  she  would  stay  if  the  river  continued  to 
fall,  until  the  rent  was  fully  exposed  and  repaired;  and 
there  she  would  stay,  repaired,  until  another  rise  floated 
her.     The  captain  signalled  for  the  paddles  to  stop  and 


lOO  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

then  drew  a  heavy  arm  across  his  forehead,  sighed,  and 
turned  to  face  the  fur  company  packet. 

The  passengers  were  becoming  calm  by  stages,  but  the 
calm  was  largely  the  reaction  of  hysteria  for  a  few  mo- 
ments until  common  sense  walled  up  the  breach.  Every 
eye  now  watched  the  oncoming  steamboat,  which  had 
sailed  doggedly  ahead  for  the  past  two  nights  and  days 
while  the  Belle  had  loitered  against  the  banks.  Even  the 
most  timid  were  now  calmed  by  the  sight  of  her  hghted 
cabins  as  she  ploughed  toward  her  stricken  sister.  Fear- 
ful of  the  snag,  she  came  to  a  stop  when  nearly  abreast 
of  the  Belle  and  the  two  captains  held  a  short  and  shouted 
conversation.  Her  yawl  soon  returned  and  reported 
the  water  safe,  but  shoaling  rapidly;  and  at  this  infor- 
mation she  turned  slightly  oblique  to  the  current  and, 
sounding  every  few  feet,  crept  up  to  within  two  gang- 
planks' reach  of  the  Belle  and  anchored  bow  and  stern. 
Her  own  great  landing  stage  swung  out  over  the  cheated 
waters  and  hung  poised  while  that  of  the  Belle  circled 
out  to  meet  it,  waveringly,  as  though  it  had  lost  a  valu- 
able sense.  They  soon  touched,  were  made  to  coincide  and 
then  lashed  securely  together.  At  once,  women  first,  the 
passengers  of  the  Belle  began  to  cross  the  arched  span  a 
few  at  a  time,  and  sighed  with  relief  as  they  reached  the 
deck  of  the  uninjured  vessel.  On  the  main  deck  of  the 
Belle  the  crew  already  was  piling  up  such  freight  as  could 
be  taken  from  the  hold  and  the  sound  of  hammering  at 
her  bow  told  of  temporary  repairs  being  made. 

Among  the  last  to  leave  the  Belle  were  Uncle  Joe  and 
Tom  and  as  they  started  toward  the  gangplank,  Captain 
Newell  hurriedly  passed  them,  stopped,  retraced  his  steps, 
and  gripped  their  hands  tightly  as  he  wished  them  a  safe 


THE  WRECKING  OF  THE  MISSVUl^I  Bli^LE  im 

arrival  at  Independence.  Then  he  plunged  out  of  sight 
toward  the  engine  room. 

The  transfer  completed,  the  fur  company  boat  cast 
free,  raised  her  anchors,  and  sidled  cautiously  back  into 
the  channel.  Blowing  a  hoarse  salute,  she  straightened 
out  into  the  current  and  surged  ahead,  apparently  in 
no  way  daunted  by  the  fate  of  her  sister.  Captain 
Graves  had  commanded  a  heavily  loaded  boat  when  he 
left  St.  Louis  and  the  addition  of  over  a  hundred  passen- 
gers and  their  personal  belongings,  for  whom  some  sort 
of  provision  must  be  made  in  sleeping  arrangements  and 
food,  urged  him  to  get  to  Independence  Landing  as 
quickly  as  he  could.  Turning  from  his  supervision  of 
the  housing  of  the  gangplank,  he  bumped  into  Uncle 
Joe,  was  about  to  apologize,  and  then  peered  into  the 
face  of  his  new  passenger.  The  few  lights  which  had 
been  placed  on  deck  to  help  in  the  transfer  of  the  passen- 
gers, enabled  him  to  recognize  the  next  to  the  last  man 
across  the  plank  and  his  greeting  was  sharp  and  friendly. 

"Joe  Cooper,  or  I'm  blind!"  he  exclaimed.  "Alone, 
Joe?" 

"Got  my  niece  with  me,  and  my  friend,  Tom  Boyd, 
here." 

"Glad  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Boyd  —  seems  to  me  I've 
heard  something  about  a  Tom  Boyd  fouling  the  official 
craft  of  the  Government  of  New  Mexico,"  said  the 
captain,  shaking  hands  with  the  young  plainsman.  "  We'll 
do  our  best  for  you-all  the  rest  of  the  night,  and  we'll 
put  Miss  Cooper  in  my  cabin.  We  ought  to  reach  Inde- 
pendence early  in  the  morning.  I  suppose  that's  your 
destination?     Take  you  on  to  Westport  just  as  easily." 

"  Independence  is  where  I  started  for,"  said  Uncle  Joe. 


-JC2  -"'^BRmG  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

"  Then  we'll  put  you  ashore  there,  no  matter  what  the 
condition  of  the  landing  is.  It's  easier  to  land  passen- 
gers than  cargo.  But  let  me  tell  you  that  if  you  are 
aiming  to  go  in  business  there,  that  Westport  is  the  com- 
ing town  since  the  river  ruined  the  lower  landing.  Let's 
see  if  the  cook's  got  any  hot  coffee  ready,  and  a  bite  to 
eat:  he's  had  time  enough,  anyhow.  Come  on.  First 
we'll  find  Miss  Cooper  and  the  other  women.  I  had  them 
all  taken  to  one  place.    Come  on." 

Shortly  after  dawn  Tom  awakened,  rose  on  one  elbow 
on  the  blanket  he  had  thrown  on  the  deck  and  looked 
around.  Uncle  Joe  snored  softly  and  rhythmically  on 
his  hard  bed,  having  refused  to  rob  any  man  of  his  berth. 
He  had  accepted  one  concession,  however,  by  throwing 
his  blanket  on  the  floor  of  the  texas,  where  he  not  only 
would  be  close  to  his  niece,  but  removed  from  the  other 
men  of  the  Belle,  many  of  whom  were  not  at  all  reassur- 
ing in  the  matter  of  personal  cleanliness.  Arising,  Tom 
went  to  a  window  and  looked  out,  seeing  a  clear  sky  and 
green,  rolling  hills  and  patches  of  timber  bathed  in  the 
slanting  sunlight.  A  close  scrutiny  of  the  bank  apprised 
him  that  they  were  not  far  from  Independence  Landing  and 
he  stepped  to  the  rail  to  look  up  the  river.  Far  upstream 
on  a  sharp  bend  on  the  south  bank  were  the  remains  of 
Old  Fort  Clark,  as  it  was  often  called.  About  twenty 
miles  farther  on  the  same  side  of  the  river  was  his  des- 
tination. He  turned  to  call  Uncle  Joe  and  met  the 
captain  at  the  door  of  the  texas;  and  he  thought  he 
caught  a  glimpse  of  a  head  bobbing  back  behind  the 
corner  of  the  cabin.  As  he  hesitated  as  to  whether  to 
go  and  verify  his  eyes,  the  captain  accosted  him,  and  he 
stood  where  he  was. 


THE  WRECKING  OF  THE  MISSOURI  BELLE  103 

"  Fine  day,  Mr.  Boyd,"  said  the  officer.  "  Sleep  well 
on  the  soft  side  of  the  deck?  " 

Tom  laughed.  "I  can  sleep  well  any  place,  captain. 
If  I  could  have  scooped  out  a  hollow  for  my  hips  I 
wouldn't  feel  quite  so  stiff." 

"Let  me  know  as  soon  as  Miss  Cooper  appears  and 
I'll  have  some  breakfast  sent  up  to  her.  If  you'd  like 
a  bite  now,  come  with  me." 

"  Thank  you;  you  are  very  considerate.  I'll  call  Uncle 
Joe  and  bring  him  with  me." 

"  You  will,  hey  ?  "  said  a  voice  from  the  texas.  "  Uncle 
Joe  is  ready  right  now,  barring  the  aches  of  his  old  bones ; 
and  I've  just  been  interrupted  by  Patience.  She  says 
she  can  chew  chunks  out  of  the  cups,  she's  so  hungry. 
What's  that?  You  didn't?  All  right;  all  right;  I'm 
backing  up  again!  Have  it  your  own  way;  you  will, 
anyhow,  in  the  end.  " 

"You  stay  right  where  you  are.  Miss  Cooper,"  called 
the  captain.  "  I'll  send  up  breakfast  enough  for  six,  and 
if  you  keep  an  eye  on  this  pair  perhaps  you  can  get  a 
bit  of  it.  And  let  me  tell  you  that  it's  lucky  that  you're 
real  hungry,  for  the  fare  on  this  boat  is  even  worse  than 
it  was  on  the  Belle.    I'll  go  right  down  and  look  to  it." 

Breakfast  over,  the  three  went  out  to  explore  the  boat. 
Patience  taking  interest  in  its  human  cargo,  especially 
its  original  passengers,  and  she  had  a  good  chance  to 
observe  them  during  the  absence  of  the  rescued  passen- 
gers of  the  Belle,  to  whom  had  been  given  the  courtesy 
of  the  first  use  of  the  dining-room. 

Almost  all  of  the  original  list  on  this  boat  were  con- 
nected in  some  way  with  the  fur  trade,  the  exceptions 
being  a  few  travelers  bound  for  the  upper  Missouri,  and 


I04  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

two  noncommissioned  officers  going  out  to  Fort  Leaven- 
worth, who  had  missed  the  Belle  at  St.  Louis,  missed  her 
again  at  St.  Charles,  and  had  been  taken  aboard  by  Cap- 
tain- Graves,  who  would  have  to  stop  at  the  Fort  for 
inspection. 

The  others  covered  all  the  human  phases  of  the  fur 
business  and  included  one  bourgeois,  or  factor ;  two  par- 
tisans, or  heads  of  expeditions;  several  clerks,  numerous 
hunters  and  trappers,  both  free  and  under  contract  to  the 
company;  half  a  dozen  "pork-eaters,"  who  were  green 
hands  engaged  for  long  periods  of  service  by  the  com- 
pany and  bound  to  it  almost  as  tightly  and  securely  as 
though  they  were  slaves.  Some  of  them  found  this  to 
be  true,  when  they  tried  to  desert,  later  on.  They  were 
called  "pork-eaters"  because  the  term  now  meant  about 
the  same  as  the  word  "  tenderfeet,"  and  its  use  came  from 
the  habit  of  the  company  to  import  green  hands  from 
Canada  under  contracts  which  not  only  made  them  slaves 
for  five  years,  but  almost  always  left  them  in  the  com- 
pany's debt  at  the  expiration  of  their  term  of  service. 
On  the  way  from  Canada  they  had  been  fed  on  a  simple 
and  monotonous  diet,  its  chief  article  being  pork;  and 
gradually  the  expression  came  to  be  used  among  the  more 
experienced  voyageurs  to  express  the  abstract  idea  of 
greenness.  There  were  camp-keepers,  voyageurs,  a  crew 
of  keelboatmen  going  up  to  the  "  navy  yard  "  above  Fort 
Union  and  two  skilled  boat-builders  bound  for  the  same 
place;  artisans,  and  several  Indians  returning  either  to 
one  of  the  posts  or  to  their  own  country.  They  made  a 
picturesque  assemblage,  and  their  language,  being  Indian, 
English,  and  French,  or  rather,  combinations  of  all  three, 
w^as  not  less  so  than  their  appearance.    Over  them  all  the 


THE  WRECKING  OF  THE  MISSOURI  BELLE  105 

bully  of  the  boat,  who  had  reached  his  semi-official 
position  through  elimination  by  consent  and  by  combat, 
exercised  a  more  or  less  orderly  supervision  as  to  their 
bickerings  and  general  behavior,  and  relieved  the  boat's 
officers  of  much  responsibility. 

The  boat  stopped  a  few  minutes  at  Liberty  Landing 
and  then  went  on,  rounding  the  nearly  circular  bend,  and 
as  the  last  turn  was  made  and  the  steamboat  headed 
westward  again  there  was  a  pause  in  the  flurry  which  had 
been  going  on  among  the  rescued  passengers  ever  since 
Liberty  Landing  had  been  left.  Independence  Landing 
was  now  close  at  hand  and  the  eager  crowd  marked  time 
until  the  bank  should  be  reached. 

Soon  the  boat  headed  in  toward  what  was  left  of  the 
once  fine  landing,  its  slowly  growing  ruin  being  responsible 
for  the  rising  importance  of  the  little  hamlet  of  Westport 
not  far  above,  and  for  the  later  and  pretentious  Kansas 
City  which  was  to  arise  on  the  bluff  behind  the  little 
frontier  village.  Independence  was  losing  its  importance 
as  a  starting  point  for  the  overland  traffic  in  the  same 
way  that  she  had  gained  it.  First  it  had  been  Franklin, 
then  Fort  Osage,  then  Blue  Mills,  and  then  Independence; 
but  now,  despite  its  commanding  position  on  one  of  the 
highest  bluffs  along  the  river  and  its  prestige  from  being 
the  county  seat,  the  latter  was  slowly  settling  in  the  back- 
ground and  giving  way  to  Westport;  but  it  was  not  to 
give  up  at  once,  nor  entirely,  for  the  newer  terminals 
had  to  share  their  prominence  with  it,  and  imtil  the  end 
of  the  overland  traffic  Independence  played  its  part. 

The  landing  was  a  busy  place.  Piles  of  cordwood  and 
freight,  the  latter  in  boxes,  barrels,  and  crates,  flanked  the 
landing  on  three  sides;  several  kinds  of  new  wagons  in 


io6  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

various  stages  of  assembling  were  scenes  of  great  activ- 
ity. Most  of  these  were  from  Pittsburg  and  had  come 
all  the  way  by  water.  A  few  were  of  the  size  first  used 
on  the  great  trail,  with  a  capacity  of  about  a  ton  and  a 
half;  but  most  were  much  larger  and  could  carry  nearly 
twice  as  much  as  the  others.  Great  bales  of  Osnaburg 
sheets,  or  wagon  covers,  wxre  in  a  pile  by  themselves, 
glistening  white  in  their  newness.  It  appeared  that  the 
cargo  of  the  John  Aiild  had  not  yet  been  transported  up 
the  bluff  to  the  village  on  the  summit. 

The  landing  became  very  much  alive  as  the  fur  com- 
pany's boat  swung  in  toward  it,  the  workers  who  hourly 
expected  the  Missouri  Belle  crowding  to  the  water's  edge 
to  welcome  the  rounding  boat,  whose  whistle  early  had 
apprised  them  that  she  was  stopping.  Free  negroes 
romped  and  sang,  awaiting  their  hurried  tasks  under 
exacting  masters,  the  bosses  of  the  gangs;  but  this  time 
there  was  to  be  no  work  for  them.  Vehicles  of  all 
kinds,  drawn  by  oxen,  mules,  and  horses,  made  a  solid 
phalanx  around  the  freight  piles,  among  them  the  wagons 
of  AuU  and  Company,  general  outfitters  for  all  kinds  of 
overland  journeys.  The  narrow,  winding  road  from  the 
water  front  up  to  and  onto  the  great  bluff  well  back  from 
the  river  was  sticky  with  mud  and  lined  with  struggling 
teams  pulling  heavy  loads. 

When  the  fur  company  boat  drew  near  enough  for 
those  on  shore  to  see  its  unusual  human  cargo,  both  as 
to  numbers  and  kinds,  conjecture  ran  high.  This  hardy 
traveler  of  the  whole  navigable  river  was  no  common 
packet,  stopping  almost  any  place  to  pick  up  any  person 
who  waved  a  hat,  but  a  supercilious  thoroughbred  which 
forged  doggedly  into  the  vast  wilderness  of  the  upper 


THE  WRECKING  OF  THE  MISSOURI  BELLE  107 

river.  Even  her  curving  swing  in  toward  the  bank  was 
made  with  a  swagger  and  hinted  at  contempt  for  any 
landing  under  a  thousand  miles  from  her  starting  point. 

Shouts  rang  across  the  water  and  were  followed  by 
great  excitement  on  the  bank.  Because  of  the  poor  con- 
dition of  the  landing  she  worked  her  way  inshore  with 
unusual  care  and  when  the  great  gangplank  finally 
bridged  the  gap  her  captain  nodded  with  relief.  In  a  few 
moments,  her  extra  passengers  ashore,  she  backed  out 
into  the  hurrying  stream  and  with  a  final  blast  of  her 
whistle,  pushed  on  up  the  river. 

Friends  met  friends,  strangers  advised  strangers,  and 
the  accident  to  the  Belle  was  discussed  with  great  gusto. 
Impatiently  pushing  out  of  the  vociferous  crowd,  Joe 
Cooper  and  his  two  companions  swiftly  found  a  Dear- 
born carriage  which  awaited  them  and,  leaving  their 
baggage  to  follow  in  the  wagon  of  a  friend,  started  along 
the  deeply  rutted,  prairie  road  for  the  town ;  Schoolcraft, 
his  partner,  and  his  Mexican  friend  sloping  along  behind 
them  on  saddle  horses  through  the  lane  of  mud.  The 
trip  across  the  bottoms  and  up  the  great  bluff  was  weari- 
some and  tiring.  They  no  sooner  lurched  out  of  one  rut 
than  they  dropped  into  another,  with  the  mud  and  water 
often  to  the  axles,  and  they  continually  were  forced  to 
climb  out  of  the  depressed  road  and  risk  upsettings  on  the 
steep,  muddy  banks  to  pass  great  wagons  hopelessly 
mired,  notwithstanding  their  teams  of  from  six  to  a 
dozen  mules  or  oxen.  Mud-covered  drivers  shouted  and 
swore  from  their  narrow  seats,  or  waded  about  their 
wagons  up  to  the  middle  in  the  cold  ooze.  If  there  was 
anything  worse  than  a  prairie  road  in  the  spring,  these 
wagoners  had  yet  to  learn  of  it. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  NEW  SIX-GUN 

INDEPENDENCE  was  alive  all  over,  humming  with 
business,  its  muddy  streets  filled  with  all  kinds  of 
vehicles  drawn  by  various  kinds  and  numbers  of  animals. 
Here  a  three-yoke  ox  team  pulled  stolidly,  there  a  four- 
mule  team  balked  on  a  turn,  and  around  them  skittish  or 
dispirited  horses  carried  riders  or  drew  high-seated 
carriages.  The  motley  crowd  on  foot  picked  its  way  as 
best  it  could.  Indians  in  savage  garb  passed  Indians  in 
civilization's  clothes,  or  mixtures  of  both;  gamblers 
rubbed  elbows  with  emigrants  and  made  overtures  to 
buckskin-covered  trappers  and  hunters  just  in  from  the 
prairies  and  mountains,  many  of  whom  were  going  up 
to  Westport,  their  main  rendezvous.  Traders  came  into 
and  went  from  Aull  and  Company's  big  store,  wherein 
was  everything  the  frontier  needed.  Behind  it  were  cor- 
rals filled  with  draft  animals  and  sheds  full  of  carts  and 
wagons. 

Boisterous  traders  and  trappers,  in  all  stages  of  drunk- 
enness, who  thought  nothing  of  spending  their  season's 
profits  in  a  single  week  if  the  mood  struck  them,  were 
still  coming  in  from  the  western  foothills,  valleys,  and 
mountains,  their  loud  conversations  replete  with  rough 
phrases  and  such  names  as  the  South  Park,  Bent's  Fort, 
The  Pueblo,  Fort  Laramie,  Bayou  Salade,  Brown's  Hole, 
and  others.    Many  of  them  so  much  resembled  Indians 

io8 


THE   NEW  SIX'GUN  109 

as  to  leave  a  careless  observer  in  doubt.  Some  were 
driving  mules  almost  buried  under  their  two  packs,  each 
pack  weighing  about  one  hundred  pounds  and  containing 
eighty-odd  beaver  skins,  sixty-odd  otter  j>elts  or  the 
equivalent  number  in  other  skins.  Usually  they  arrived 
in  small  parties,  but  here  and  there  was  a  solitary  trapper. 
The  skins  would  be  sold  to  the  outfitting  merchants  and 
would  establish  a  credit  on  which  the  trapper  could  draw 
until  time  to  outfit  and  go  off  on  the  fall  hunt.  Had  he 
sold  them  to  some  far,  outlying  post  he  would  have 
received  considerably  less  for  them  and  have  paid  from 
two  hundred  to  six  hundred  per  cent  more  for  the  articles 
he  bought.  As  long  as  there  was  nothing  for  him  to  do 
in  his  line  until  fall  set  in,  he  might  just  as  well  spend 
some  of  the  time  on  the  long  march  to  the  frontier,  risk- 
ing the  loss  of  his  goods,  animals,  and  perhaps  his  life 
in  order  to  get  better  prices  and  enjoy  a  change  of 
scene. 

The  county  seat  looked  good  to  him  after  his  long 
stay  in  the  solitudes.  Pack  and  wagon  trains  were  com- 
ing and  going,  some  of  the  wagons  drawn  by  as  many 
as  a  dozen  or  fifteen  yokes  of  oxen.  All  was  noise, 
confusion,  life  at  high  pressure,  and  made  a  fit  surround- 
ing for  his  coming  carousal ;  and  here  was  all  the  liquor 
he  could  hope  to  drink,  of  better  quality  and  at  better 
prices,  guarantees  of  which,  in  the  persons  of  numerous 
passers-by,  he  saw  on  many  sides. 

Rumors  of  all  kinds  were  afloat,  most  of  them  concern- 
ing hostile  Indians  lying  in  wait  at  certain  known  danger 
spots  along  the  trails,  and  of  the  hostile  acts  of  the 
Mormons;  but  the  Mormons  were  behind  and  the  trail 
was  ahead,  and  the  rumors  of  its  dangers  easily  took 


no  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

precedence.  It  was  reported  that  the  first  caravan,  al- 
ready on  the  trail  and  pressing  hard  on  the  heels  of 
spring,  was  being  escorted  by  a  force  of  two  hundred 
United  States  dragoons,  the  third  time  in  the  history  of 
the  Santa  Fe  trade  that  a  United  States  military  escort 
had  been  provided.  Dangers  were  magnified,  dangers 
were  scorned,  dangers  were  courted,  depending  upon  the 
nature  of  the  men  relating  them.  There  were  many  noisy 
fire-eaters  who  took  their  innings  now,  in  the  security 
of  the  town,  who  would  become  as  wordless,  later  on, 
as  some  of  the  tight-lipped  and  taciturn  frontiersmen 
were  now.  Greenhorns  from  the  far-distant  East  were 
proving  their  greenness  by  buying  all  kinds  of  useless 
articles,  which  later  they  would  throw  away  one  by  one, 
and  were  armed  in  a  manner  befitting  buccaneers  of  the 
Spanish  Main.  To  them,  easiest  of  all,  were  old  and 
heavy  oxen  sold,  animals  certain  to  grow  footsore  and 
useless  by  the  time  they  had  covered  a  few  hundred 
miles.  They  bought  anything  and  everything  that  any 
wag  suggested,  and  there  were  plenty  of  wags  on  hand. 
The  less  they  knew  the  more  they  talked ;  and  experienced 
caravan  travelers  shook  their  heads  at  sight  of  them, 
recognizing  in  them  the  most  prolific  and  hardest  work- 
ing trouble-makers  in  the  whole,  long  wagon  train.  Here 
and  there  an  invalid  was  seen,  hoping  that  the  long  trip 
in  the  open  would  restore  health,  and  in  many  cases  the 
hopes  became  realizations. 

Joseph  Cooper  installed  his  niece  in  the  best  hotel  the 
town  afforded  and  went  off  to  see  about  his  wagons  and 
goods,  while  Tom  Boyd  hurried  to  a  trapper's  retreat 
to  find  his  partner  and  his  friends.  The  retreat  was 
crowded  with  frontiersmen  and  traders,  among  whom  lie 


THE   NEW  SIX-GUN i^ 

recognized  many  acquaintances.  He  no  sooner  had  en- 
tered the  place  than  he  was  soundly  slapped  on  the 
shoulder  and  turned  to  exchange  grins  with  his  best 
friend,  Hank  Marshall,  who  forthwith  led  him  to  a  cor- 
ner where  a  small  group  was  seated  around  a  table,  and 
where  he  found  Jim  Ogden  and  Zeb  Houghton,  two 
trapper  friends  of  his  who  were  going  out  to  Bent's 
trading  post  on  the  Arkansas ;  Enoch  Birdsall  and  Alonzo 
Webb,  two  veteran  traders,  and  several  others  who  would 
be  identified  with  the  next  caravan  to  leave. 

"Thar's  one  of  them  danged  contraptions,  now!" 
exclaimed  Birdsall,  pointing  to  the  holster  swinging  from 
Tom's  broad  belt.  "  I  don't  think  much  o'  these  hyar  new- 
fangled weapons  we're  seein'  more  an*  more  every  year. 
An'  cussed  if  he  ain't  got  a  double-bar'l  rifle,  too !  Dang 
it,  Tom,  don't  put  all  yer  aigs  in  one  basket;  ain't  ye 
keepin'  no  weapons  ye  kin  be  shore  on  ?  " 

"Thar  both  good,  Enoch,"  replied  Tom,  smiling 
broadly. 

"  Shore  they  air,"  grunted  Birdsall's  partner.  "  Enoch 
don't  reckon  nothin's  no  good  less'n  it  war  foaled  in  th' 
Revolutionary  War,  an'  has  got  whiskers  like  a  Mormon 
bishop.  Fust  he  war  dead  sot  ag'in  steamboats;  said 
they  war  fly  in'  in  th'  face  o'  Providence  an'  wouldn't 
work,  nohow.  Then  he  said  it  war  plumb  foolish  ter  try 
ter  take  waggins  inter  Santer  Fe.  Next  he  war  dead  sot 
ag'in  mules  fer  anythin'  but  packin'.  Now  he's  cold  ter 
caps  an'  says  flints  war  made  'special  by  th'  Lord  fer  ter 
strike  fire  with  —  but,  he  rides  on  th'  steamboats  when  he 
gits  th'  chanct;  he's  taken  waggins  clean  ter  Chihuahua, 
drivin'  mules  ter  'em;  an'  he's  sorter  hankerin'  fer  ter 
use  caps,  though  he  won't  admit  it  open.    Let  him  alone 


112  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

an'  watch  him  try  ter  borrer  yer  new  pistol  when  th' 
Injuns  try  tcr  stampede  th'  animals.  He's  a  danged  old 
fool  in  his  talk,  but  you  jest  keep  an  eye  on  him.  Thar, 
I've  said  my  say." 

"  An'  a  danged  long  say  it  war ! "  snorted  Enoch,  bel- 
ligerently. "It  stands  ter  reason  that  thar  pistol  can't 
shoot  *em  out  o'  one  bar'l  plumb  down  the  dead  center  of 
another  every  time!  An'  suppose  ye  want  ter  use  a 
double  charge  o'  powder,  whar  ye  goin'  ter  put  it  in 
them  danged  little  holes  ?  Suppose  yer  caps  hang  fire  — 
what  then,  I  want  ter  know  ?  " 

"S'posin'  th'  wind  blows  th'  primin'  out  o'  yer  pan?" 
queried  Zeb.  "  S'posin'  ye  lose  your  flint?  S'posin'  yer 
powder  ain't  no  good?  S'posin'  ye  ram  down  th'  ball 
fust,  like  ye  did  that  time  them  Crows  tried  ter  lift 
our  cache.  Fine  mess  ye  nigh  made  o'  that!  Onct  ye 
start  thar  ain't  no  end  o'  s'posin',  nohow.  Caps  is  all 
right,  /  use  'em!" 

"He  uses  'em!"  chuckled  Enoch.  "Ain't  that  a  sen- 
sible answer?  Caps  is  all  right,  if  he  uses  'em!  Danged 
if  he  don't  make  me  laugh :  but  he's  a  good  ol'  beaver, 
at  that,  Zeb  is.  As  fur  rammin'  down  th'  ball  fust,  that 
time;  he  never  told  ye  about  how  he  swallered  a  hull 
mouthful  o'  balls  when  Singin'  Fox  sent  a  arrer  through 
his  cap,  did  he?" 

Zeb  looked  a  little  self-conscious.  "Beaver's  shore 
gittin'  scarce,"  he  said. 

"Thar's  a  passel  o'  Oregoners  rendyvouin'  out  ter 
Round  Grove,"  said  Hank.  "  If  we're  goin'  with  'em 
we  better  jine  'em  purty  quick." 

Tom  shook  his  head.  "I'm  aimin'  fer  th'  Arkansas 
this  trip.    Goin'  ter  try  it  onct  more." 


THE  NEW  SIX-GUN  113 

Hank's  jaw  dropped.  ''Thar!"  he  snorted.  "Kin  ye 
beat  that?" 

"  Glad  ter  hear  it,"  said  Jim  Ogden.  "  We'll  be  with 
ye  fur's  th'  Crossin';  but  ain't  ye  gamblin',  Tom?" 

"  Armijo  shore  will  run  up  th'  flags  an'  order  out  his 
barefoot  army,"  said  Hank,  grimly,  "if  he  larns  o'  it. 
An'  he'll  mebby  need  th'  army,  too." 

"  He'll  larn  o'  it,"  declared  Birdsall.  "  Thar's  a  passel 
o'  greasers  goin'  over  th'  trail  with  us  —  an'  shore  as 
shootin'  some  o'  'em  will  go  ahead  with  th'  news  arter 
we  reach  th'  Cimarron.  Don't  be  a  danged  fool,  Tom; 
you  better  go  'long  th'  Platte  with  th'  emigrants." 

"  Can't  do  it,"  replied  Tom.  "  I've  give  my  word  an' 
I'm  goin'  through  ter  Santa  Fe.  Armijo'U  larn  o'  it, 
all  right.  I've  seen  signs  o'  that  already.  Some  greaser 
fanned  a  knife  at  me  on  th'  boat;  but  I  couldn't  larn 
nothin'  more  about  it." 

"Dang  my  hide  if  I  ain't  got  a  good  notion  ter  let 
ye  go  alone ! "  snorted  Hank,  whereat  a  roar  of  laughter 
arose.     It  seemed  that  he  was  very  well  known. 

"  I'll  see  how  things  bust,"  said  Ogden.  "  I  war  aimin' 
fer  Bent's,  but  thar  ain't  no  use  o'  gittin'  thar  much 
afore  fall."  He  thought  a  moment,  and  then  slammed 
his  hand  on  the  table.    "  I'm  goin'  with  ye,  Tom !  " 

"  Talkin'  like  a  blind  fool ! "  growled  Zeb  Houghton, 
his  inseparable  companion.  "I'm  startin'  fer  th'  fort, 
an'  I'm  goin'  thar!     If  you  ain't  got  no  sense,  /  has!" 

Hank  laughed  and  winked  at  the  others.  "I'll  go 
with  ye,  Zeb.  Me  an'  you'll  go  thar  together  an'  let  these 
two  fools  git  stood  up  ag'in  a  wall.  Sarve  'em  right  if  he 
cuts  'em  up  alive.  We'll  ask  him  ter  send  us  thar  ears, 
fer  ter  remember  'em  by." 


114 ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

Zeb's  remarks  about  the  Governor  of  New  Mexico 
caused  every  head  in  the  room  to  turn  his  way,  and  called 
forth  a  running  fire  of  sympathetic  endorsements.  He 
banged  the  table  with  his  fists.  "Hank  Marshall,  ye 
got  more  brains  nor  I  has,  but  I  got  ter  go  'long  an'  keep 
that  pore  critter  out  o'  trouble.  If  I  don't  he'll  lose  hoss 
an'  beaver ! " 

A  stranger  sauntered  over,  grinned  at  them  and  slid 
a  revolving  Colt  pistol  on  the  table.  "Thar,  boys,"  he 
said.  "  Thar's  what  ye  need  if  yer  goin'  ter  Santer  Fe. 
I'm  headin'  fer  home,  back  east.  What'U  ye  give  me  fer 
it,  tradin'  in  yer  old  pistol?  Had  a  run  o'  cussed  bad 
luck  last  night,  an'  I  need  boat  fare.     Who  wants  it?" 

Enoch  Birdsall  and  Hank  Marshall  both  reached  for 
it,  but  Hank  was  the  quicker.  He  looked  it  over  care- 
fully and  then  passed  it  to  his  partner.  "  What  ye  think 
o'  her,  Tom?"  he  asked. 

After  a  moment's  scrutiny  Tom  nodded  and  gave  it 
back.  "Looks  brand  new.  Hank.  Good  pistol.  I  tried 
mine  out  on  th'  boat  comin'  up.  They  shoot  hard  an' 
straight." 

Hank  looked  up  at  the  stranger  and  shook  his  head 
deprecatingly,  starting  the  preliminary  to  a  long,  hard- 
driven  barter;  but  he  hadn't  reckoned  on  Birdsall,  the 
skeptic. 

"  Ten  dollars  an'  this  hyar  pistol,"  said  Enoch  quickly. 

"  Wall !  "  exclaimed  Hank,  staring  at  him.  "  Dang 
ye !    Eleven  dollars  an'  this  pistol ! " 

"  Twelve,"  placidly  said  Enoch. 

"Twelve  an'  a  half!"  snapped  Hank. 

"An'  three  quarters." 

"  Thirteen !  "  growled  Hank,  trying  to  hide  his  misery. 


THE  NEW  SIX-GUN  115 

Enoch  raised  again  and,  a  quarter  at  a  time,  they  ran 
the  price  up  to  sixteen  dollars,  Enoch  bidding  with  Yan- 
kee caution  and  reluctance,  Hank  with  a  stubborn  de- 
termination not  to  let  his  friend  get  ahead  of  him.  One 
was  a  trader,  shrewd  and  thrifty;  the  other,  a  trapper, 
which  made  it  a  game  between  a  canny  barterer  on  one 
side  and  a  reckless  spender  on  the  other.  At  twenty- 
three  dollars  Birdsall  quit,  spat  angrily  at  a  box,  and 
scowled  at  his  excited  companion,  who  was  counting  the 
money  onto  the  table.  Hank  glared  at  Enoch,  jammed 
the  Colt  in  his  belt  and  bit  savagely  into  a  plug  of  to- 
bacco, while  the  stranger,  hiding  his  smile,  bowed 
ironically  and  left  them;  and  in  a  moment  he  was  back 
again  with  another  Colt. 

"  I  knowed  it ! "  mourned  Hank.    "  Dang  ye,  Enoch !  *' 

"  Boys,"  said  the  stranger,  sadly,  "  my  friend  is  in  th' 
same  fix  that  I  am.  He  is  willin'  ter  part  with  his  Colt 
for  th'  same  money  an'  another  old  fashioned  pistol.  His 
mother's  dyin'  in  St.  Louie  an'  he's  got  ter  git  back  ter 
her." 

"  Too  danged  bad  it  ain't  him,  an'  you,"  snorted  Hank. 

Jim  Ogden  held  out  his  hand,  took  the  weapon  and 
studied  it.  Quietly  handing  over  his  own  pistol  and  the 
money,  he  held  out  his  other  hand,  empty.  "  Whar's  th* 
mold ;  an'  some  caps  ?  " 

"Wall,"  drawled  the  stranger,  rubbing  his  chin. 
"They  don't  go  with  th'  weapons  —  they're  separate. 
Cost  ye  three  dollars  fer  th'  mold;  an'  th'  caps  air  two 
dollars  a  box  o'  two  hundred." 

"Then  hand  her  back  agin  an'  take  th'  Colt,"  said 
Ogden,  slowly  arising.  "Think  I'm  goin'  ter  whittle, 
or  chew  bullets  fer  it?    Neither  one  of  them  guns  has 


ii6  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

even  been  used.  Thar  bran*  new,  an'  with  'em  goes  th' 
mold.  Jest  because  I've  spent  a  lot  o'  my  days  up  on 
Green  River  ain't  sayin'  I'm  green.  They  named  it 
that  because  I  left  my  greenness  thar." 

"  Th'  caps  air  extry,"  said  the  vendor  of  Colt  pistols. 

"Ain't  said  nothin'  about  no  caps,  yit,"  retorted 
Ogden.  "  I'm  talkin'  molds.  Gimme  one,  an'  give  Hank 
one;  or  ye'll  both  shore  as  hell  miss  his  mother's 
funeral." 

The  stranger  complied,  sold  some  caps  and  left  the  sa- 
loon in  good  humor ;  but  he  had  not  been  gone  two  min- 
utes before  Enoch  hastily  arose  and  pleaded  that  he  had 
to  meet  a  man;  and  when  they  saw  him  again  he  had  a 
newfangled  contraption  in  a  holster  at  his  belt. 

Hank  carelessly  opened  his  mold  and  glanced  at  it. 
"  Pinted ! "  he  exclaimed. 

Tom  explained  swiftly  and  reassured  his  friends,  and 
then  suggested  that  they  go  down  to  a  smithy  owned  by 
a  mutual  friend,  and  run  some  bullets.  "  We  better  do 
it  while  we're  thinkin'  about  it,  an'  have  th'  time," 
he  added. 

"Got  lots  o'  time,"  said  Ogden.  "Be  three  weeks 
afore  th'  second  caravan  starts.  Thar's  two  goin'  out 
this  year.  If  'twarn't  fer  th'  early  warm  weather  on  th' 
prairies  th'  fust  wouldn't  'a'  left  yet.  Th'  grass  is  comin' 
up  fast." 

"Thar's  some  waggins  o'  th'  second  game  out  ter 
Council  Grove  already,"  said  Alonzo  Webb  "They 
wanted  me  an'  Enoch  ter  go  'long  with  'em,  but  we 
couldn't  see  th'  sense  o'  leavin'  town  so  fur  ahead  o' 
time,  an'  totin'  that  much  more  grub.  'Sides,  th'  roads'll 
be  better,  mebby,  later  on." 


THE  NEW  SIX-GUN  117 

The  smith  welcomed  them  and  they  used  his  fire  during 
the  lulls  in  his  business. 

"  Hear  Zachary  Woodson's  goin'  out  with  eight  wag- 
gins  this  year,"  he  told  them.  "  Missed  th'  fust  caravan. 
Says  he'll  be  tetotally  cussed  if  he's  goin'  ter  be  captain 
ag'in  this  year." 

"  That's  what  he  says  every  year,"  grunted  Alonzo. 

"He'll  be  captain  if  we  has  th'  say-so,"  replied  Hank. 
"Only  thing,  he's  a  mite  too  easy  with  th'  fools;  but 
thar's  goin'  ter  be  less  squabblin'  about  obeyin'  orders 
this  trip  than  ever  afore.     We'll  see  ter  that.'* 

While  they  discussed  matters  pertaining  to  the  cara- 
van, and  ran  bullets,  listening  to  the  gossip  of  the  smith's 
customers,  they  saw  Uncle  Joe  and  his  two  wagoners 
driving  his  mules  toward  the  shop  to  have  them  re-shod. 
They  shook  hands  all  around  and  soon  Uncle  Joe,  grin- 
ning from  ear  to  ear,  told  them  that  he  was  going  out 
with  the  caravan.  He  was  as  tickled  as  a  boy  with  a  new 
knife. 

"Just  as  I  feared,"  he  said  in  explanation.  "I 
couldn't  find  any  trader  that  was  takin'  any  of  his  women 
folks  along;  so  there  was  only  one  way  out  of  it.  I  got 
to  go.  An'  I  don't  mind  tellin'  you  boys  that  it  suits  me 
clean  down  to  th'  ground.  Anyhow,  all  I  wanted  was 
an  excuse.  I  got  a  light  wagon  for  Patience  an'  me  an' 
our  personal  belongings,  an'  I'm  goin'  to  drive  it  myself. 
Bein'  th'  only  woman  in  th'  caravan,  fur  as  I  know,  it'll 
mebby  be  a  little  mite  hard  on  her.  Reckon  she'll  git 
lonesome,  'specially  since  she's  so  danged  purty." 

When  the  laughter  died  down  Hank  Marshall,  shifting 
his  cud  to  the  other  cheek,  looked  from  Uncle  Joe  to  Tom 
and  back  again. 


ii8 "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

"Wall,"  he  drawled,  "I  war  puzzled  a  little  at  fust, 
but  now  I  reckon  I'm  gittin'  th'  hang  o'  this  hyar  thing. 
Tom  war  shore  hell-bent  fer  ter  go  out  ter  Oregon  this 
year."  He  paused,  scratched  his  head,  and  grinned. 
"  Reckon  I  kin  drive  them  mules  all  by  myself.  'Twon't 
be  as  though  it  war  th'  fust  time  I've  done  it." 

After  a  little  good-natured  banter  Tom  and  Hank 
left  the  smithy  to  look  after  their  affairs,  for  there  was 
quite  a  lot  to  be  done.  The  next  few  days  would  be 
busy  ones  for  them  both,  but  especially  so  for  Tom,  who 
was  expected  to  share  his  company  between  Patience, 
Hank,  and  Uncle  Joe. 

As  they  swung  up  the  street  Hank  edged  to  cross  it, 
pointing  to  Schoolcraft's  corral.  **  Might  as  well  be 
gittin'  th'  mules  afore  thar  all  run  over  an'  th'  best  took. 
If  he  kin  skin  me  in  a  mule  deal  I'm  willin'  ter  abide 
by  it." 

"  Not  there,"  objected  Tom.  "  I've  had  some  trouble 
with  him.  I'll  play  pack  animal  myself  before  I'll  buy 
a  single  critter  from  him." 

Hank  shook  with  silent  laughter.  "That's  whar  he 
got  it,  huh?  "  he  exulted.  " Cussed  if  he  warn't  trimmed 
proper.  I  might  'a'  knowed  it  war  you  as  done  it  by 
th'  way  it  looked."  He  shook  again  and  then  became 
alert.  "Thar  he  is  now;  an'  his  friends  air  with  him. 
Keep  yer  primin'  dry,  boy." 

"  I  reckoned  I  could  shake  a  laig,"  said  a  voice  behind 
them,  and  they  looked  over  their  shoulders  to  see  Jim 
Ogden  at  their  heels,  and  close  behind  him  came  his 
partner;  "but  you  two  kiyotes  plumb  made  me  hoof  it. 
What's  yer  hurry,  anyhow?" 

The  little  group  in  front  of  the  corral  gate  shifted  in 


THE  NEW  SIX-GUN  119 

indecision  and  looked  inquiringly  at  the  horse-dealer. 
There  was  a  difference  between  stirring  up  trouble  be- 
tween themselves  and  Tom  Boyd  for  the  purpose  of  man- 
handling him,  and  stirring  it  up  between  themselves  and 
the  four  trappers. 

Schoolcraft  said  something  out  of  the  corner  of  his 
mouth  and  the  group  melted  away  into  the  little  shack 
at  the  corral  gate.  He  remained  where  he  was,  scowling 
frankly  at  his  enemy. 

"  Looks  like  they  war  a-fixin'  ter  try  it  on  us,"  growled 
Hank,  returning  the  scowl  with  interest.  "Let's  go 
over  an'  say  how-de-do  ter  'em.  This  here  town's  been 
too  peaceable,  anyhow" 

"What's  th'  trouble?"  asked  Ogden,  curiously,  his 
partner  pressing  against  him  to  hear  the  answer. 

"  Ain't  none,"  answered  Tom.  "  Thar  might  'a'  been, 
but  it's  blowed  over." 

"Wall,"  drawled  Ogden.  "Ye  never  kin  tell  about 
these  hyar  frontier  winds.  Yer  th'  partisan  o'  this  hyar 
expedition,  Tom.  We'll  foller  yer  lead.  It's  all  one  ter 
us  whar  ye  go;  we're  with  ye." 

Schoolcraft,  knowing  that  trouble  with  these  plains- 
men would  almost  certainly  end  in  serious  bloodshed, 
shrugged  his  shoulders  and  entered  the  shack;  and  after 
him,  from  behind  the  corral  wall  darted  the  slender 
Mexican. 

"  Thar ! "  exclaimed  Tom,  pointing.  "  See  that  greaser  ? 
Keep  yer  eyes  skinned  fer  him.    He's  bad  medicine." 

"Looks  like  he  war  fixin'  fer  ambushin'  us,  hidin' 
behind  that  wall,"  growled  Hank. 

"  He's  got  a  fine  head  o'  hair  ter  peel,"  snorted  Zeb 
Houghton,  v/hose  reputation  in  regard  to  scalp  lifting 


120  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

was  anything  but  to  his  credit.  The  fingers  of  his  left 
hand  closed  involuntarily  with  a  curling  motion  and 
the  wrist  turned  suggestively ;  and  the  Mexican,  well  back 
from  the  dirty  window  of  the  shack,  felt  a  rising  of  his 
stomach  and  was  poor  company  for  the  rest  of  the  day. 

The  four  swung  on  again,  Ogden  and  his  partner 
soon  leaving  the  party  to  go  to  their  quarters,  while 
Tom  and  Hank  went  on  along  the  street  and  stopped  at 
another  horse-dealer's,  where  they  bought  two  riding 
horses  and  eight  broken-in  mules,  the  latter  covered  with 
scars.  The  horses  were  broken  to  saddle  and  would 
carry  them  over  the  trail ;  two  of  the  mules  were  to  carry 
their  necessaries  and  the  other  six  their  small  stock  of 
merchandise,  which  they  now  set  out  to  obtain.  In  pro- 
curing the  latter  they  were  very  fortunate,  for  they  found 
a  greenhorn  who  had  paid  too  much  attention  to  rumors 
and  had  decided  at  the  last  moment  that  trail  life 
and  trading  in  the  far  west  did  not  impress  him  very 
favorably;  and  he  sold  his  stock  to  them  almost  at  their 
own  terms,  glad  to  get  out  of  his  venture  so  easily.  They 
took  what  they  wanted  of  it  and  then  sold  the  remainder 
at  a  price  which  nearly  paid  for  their  own  goods.  Leav- 
ing their  purchases  at  Uncle  Joe's  wagons  under  the 
care  of  his  teamsters,  they  went  to  his  hotel  to  spend 
the  night. 

After  supper  Hank,  who  had  shown  a  restlessness 
very  foreign  to  him,  said  that  he  was  going  out  to  take 
a  walk  and  would  return  soon.  When  Tom  offered  to 
go  with  him  he  shook  his  head,  grinned,  and  departed. 

The  evening  passed  very  pleasantly  for  Tom,  who 
needed  nothing  more  than  Patience's  presence  to  make 
him  content,  and  after  she  had  said  good  night  he  accom- 


THE  NEW  SIX-GUN  121 

panied  her  uncle  to  the  bar  for  a  night-cap.  As  he 
entered  the  room  he  thought  he  saw  a  movement  out- 
side the  window,  down  in  one  corner  of  the  sash,  and 
he  slipped  to  the  door  and  peered  out.  As  he  cogitated 
about  scouting  around  outside  he  heard  Uncle  Joe's  voice 
calling  to  him  over  the  noise  of  the  crowd  and  he  made 
his  way  back  to  the  bar,  drank  to  the  success  of  the 
coming  expedition,  and  engaged  in  small  talk  with  his 
companion  and  those  around  them.  But  his  thoughts 
were  elsewhere,  for  Hank  had  been  gone  a  long  time. 

"Uncle  Joe,  how  long  have  you  known  your  wag- 
oners?" he  asked. 

"Long  enough  to  know  'em  well."  The  trader  re- 
garded him  quizzically.  "  Not  worryin'  about  your  mer- 
chandise, are  you?" 

"  I'm  wondering  where  Hank  is." 

"In  some  trapper's  rendezvous;  he'll  show  up  in  th* 
mornin'  with  nothin'  worse  than  a  headache." 

'Tm  not  treating  him  right,"  soliloquized  Tom.  "A 
man  shouldn't  forget  his  friends,  especially  when  they're 
as  close  as  Hank  is.  I'm  goin'  lookin'  for  him.  Good 
night." 

Uncle  Joe  watched  him  push  his  way  directly  through 
the  crowd,  leaving  a  few  scowls  in  his  wake,  and  pop  out 
of  the  door ;  and  the  older  man  nodded  with  satisfaction. 
"A  man  shouldn't,  Tom,  my  boy,"  he  muttered.  "  Stick 
to  them  that's  stuck  to  you  —  always  —  forever — in 
spite  of  hell.    That's  good  medicine." 

A  tour  of  the  places  where  trappers  congregated  was 
barren  of  results  until  he  had  reached  the  last  of  such 
resorts  that  he  knew,  and  here  he  found  Enoch  Birdsall 
and  Alonzo  Webb,  who  welcomed  him  with  such  vocifer- 


122 "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

ous  greetings  that  he  knew  they  had  nearly  reached  the 
quarrelsome  stage.  To  his  inquiries  as  to  the  where- 
abouts of  his  partner  they  made  boisterous  replies,  their 
laughter  rattling  the  windows. 

'' or  beaver's  settin'  a-top  his  house — no,  'tain't  no 
house.  Settin*  a-top  yer  pile  o'  goods  cached  with 
Cooper's  —  you  tell  'im,"  yelled  Alonzo,  slapping  Enoch 
across  the  back  and  nearly  knocking  him  out  of  the  chair. 
"Youtell'im,  or  Buff'ler!'' 

"Prairie  hen  on  his  nest  is  more  like  him"  shouted 
Enoch,  returning  his  friend's  love  tap  with  interest, 
whereupon  Alonzo  missed  twice  and  fell  to  the  floor. 

"  Prairie  hen  on  yer  nose ! "  yelled  the  prostrate  trader, 
trying  to  swim  toward  his  partner.  "Thar  ain't  no 
prairie  beaver  as  kin  knock  me  down  an'  keep  me  thar! 
Stan'  up  like  a  man,  ye  polecat !  An'  I  kin  lick  you,  too ! " 
he  yelled,  as  Tom  avoided  his  sweeping  arm  and  hastened 
toward  the  door.  "Better  run!  Better  run!  Git  'im 
Enoch,  ye  fool!" 

Tom  did  not  reach  the  front  door,  for  with  astonishing 
speed  and  agility  for  one  so  far  in  his  cups  Enoch,  taking 
up  the  quarrel  of  his  friend,  whom  he  presently  would 
be  fighting,  leaped  from  the  table,  vaulted  over  a  chair, 
and  by  some  miracle  of  drunken  equilibrium  landed  on 
his  feet  with  his  back  to  the  door  and  swung  both  fists 
at  the  surprised  plainsman.  Tom's  eyes  glinted,  and  then 
twinkled.  He  had  few  better  friends  than  these  two 
quarrelsome  traders  and,  stepping  back,  he  leaped  over 
the  prostrate  and  anything  but  silent  Alonzo  and  darted 
out  through  the  back  door,  laughing  at  the  furious  squab- 
bling he  left  behind.  Reaching  the  corner  of  the  building, 
he  fell  into  his  habitual  softness  of  tread  and  slipped 


THE  NEW  SIX-GUN 123 

along  the  rear  of  the  shacks  on  a  direct  course  for  the 
place  where  his  and  Cooper's  merchandise  was  stored. 
Schoolcraft's  corral  loomed  up  in  front  of  him  and  he 
skirted  it  silently.  He  almost  had  reached  its  far  corner 
when  a  Mexican's  voice,  raised  in  altercation  inside  the 
inclosure,  caught  his  ear  and  checked  him,  balanced  on 
one  foot. 

"For  why  he  do  eet?"  demanded  the  Mexican,  ex- 
citedly. "I  tol'  heem  that  he  mus'  leeve  Tomaz  tr-rade 
goods  by  themselves.  He  ees  goin'  to  Santa  Fe  weethout 
f or-rce ;  an'  now  eet  ees  all  spoil !  For  what  he  do  eet  ? 
Bah !  For  hees  revenge  he  say.  What  ees  hees  revenge 
like  Armijo's?" 

"  Oh,  shut  yer  mouth  an'  stop  yer  yowlin*,"  growled  a 
gruff  voice.     "  Eph  alius  knows  what  he's  a-doin'." 

The  poised  listener  outside  the  corral  paused  to  hear 
no  more  but  was  off  like  a  shadow,  his  stride  a  long, 
swinging  lope,  for  he  was  too  wise  to  dash  at  full  speed 
and  waste  fighting  breath  for  the  sake  of  gaining  a  few 
seconds.  He  made  his  devious  way  across  a  plain 
studded  with  wagons,  piles  of  freight  and  heaps  of  debris, 
and  before  he  reached  his  objective  the  sounds  of  con- 
flict singled  it  out  for  him  had  he  been  in  any  doubt. 

The  open  wagon-shed  loomed  suddenly  before  him  and 
he  made  out  a  struggling  mass  on  the  ground  before  it, 
his  partner's  grunted  curses  and  the  growls  of  Cooper's 
wagoner  saving  them  from  his  attack.  He  went  into  the 
mass  feet  first,  landing  with  all  his  weight  and  the  mo- 
mentum of  his  run  on  a  crouched  man  whose  upraised 
arm  was  only  waiting  for  a  sure  opening.  The  knife 
user  grunted  as  he  went  down,  and  his  head  struck  the 
edge  of  a  wagon-wheel  with  such  force  that  he  no  longer 


124  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

was  a  combatant.  Tom  had  fallen  to  his  knees  after  his 
catapulting  impact  and  when  he  arose  he  held  a  squirm- 
ing halfbreed  over  his  head  at  the  height  of  his  upraised 
arms.  One  heave  of  his  powerful  body  and  the  human 
missile  flew  through  the  air  and  struck  two  of  the  half- 
breed's  friends  as  they  sprang  to  their  feet  in  sudden 
alarm.  They  went  down  like  tenpins  and  before  they 
could  gain  their  feet  again  Tom  dropped  on  one  of  them, 
his  knees  squarely  in  the  pit  of  the  man's  stomach,  his 
right  hand  on  the  throat  of  the  other,  while  his  left 
gripped  his  adversary's  knife  hand  and  bent  it  steadily 
and  inexorably  back  toward  the  wrist. 

"Th'  little  bobcat's  j'ined  us,"  panted  Hank,  crawling 
onto  the  man  he  now  rolled  under  him.  "Tom  Boyd, 
Armijo's  pet,  with  his  fangs  bared  an'  his  claws  out. 

Take  this,  you  ! "  he  grunted  as  his  shoulder  set 

itself  behind  the  smashing  blow.  "How  ye  makin'  out 
with  yer  friend,  Abe?"  he  asked  of  the  other  rolling 
pair. 

It  seemed  that  Abe  was  not  making  out  according  to 
Hank's  specifications,  so  he  crawled  over  to  help  him, 
and  reached  out  a  hand.  It  fastened  onto  a  skinny  neck 
and  clamped  shut,  whereupon  Abe  rolled  victoriously 
free  and  paused  to  glower  at  his  victim.  His  surprise, 
while  genuine,  was  of  short  duration,  and  he  shook  his 
head  at  the  cheerful  Hank  and  then  pounced  onto  the 
man  who  had  been  used  as  a  missile,  and  pinned  him 
to  the  ground.  In  a  few  moments  the  fight  was  over, 
and  the  victors  grinned  sheepishly  at  each  other  in  the 
semi-darkness  and  re-arranged  various  parts  of  their 
clothing. 

"I  saw  somethin'  smash  inter  th'  waggin.  wheel  an' 


THE  NEW  SIX-GUN  125 

sorta  reckoned  you  war  some'rs  'round,"  panted  Hank. 
''  Then  I  saw  somethin'  else  sail  inter  th'  air  an'  knock 
over  two  o'  th'  thieves.  Then  I  knowed  ye  war  hyar. 
Me  an'  Abe  war  doin'  our  best,  but  we  war  beginnin'  ter 
slip,  like  fur  at  th'  end  o'  winter." 

"Ye  mebbe  war  sheddin'  a  little,"  laughed  Tom,  "but 
you'd  'a'  shed  them  thieves  afore  ye  petered  out.  Tell 
me  about  it." 

"Thar  ain't  nothin'  ter  tell,"  replied  Hank.  "Fm 
nat'rally  suspicious  by  bein'  up  in  th'  Crow  country  so 
much  o'  my  time,  an'  I  got  ter  thinkin'  'bout  School- 
craft. I'm  mostly  stronger  on  hindsight  than  I  am  on 
foresight,  but  this  hyar's  onct  I  sorta  lined  'em  both  up 
an'  got  a  good  bead.  I  snuk  up  ter  his  shanty  an'  heard 
him  an'  that  thar  greaser  chawin'  tough  meat  with  each 
other.  So  I  come  down  hyar,  expectin'  ter  lay  fer  'era 
with  Abe;  but  danged  if  him  an'  them  wam't  at  it  al- 
ready !  I  only  got  two  feet,  two  ban's  an'  one  mouth,  an' 
I  had  ter  waste  one  foot  a-standin'  on  it ;  but  th'  rest  o* 
me  jined  th'  dance.     Then  you  come.    That's  all." 

"  How  long  war  you  two  holdin'  off  th'  six  o'  'em  ?  '* 
demanded  Tom  of  Abe  with  great  interest,  and  thinking 
that  Cooper's  trust  was  well  placed. 

"'Twarn't  long;  two  comets  an'  about  six  hundred 
stars,  I  reckon,"  mumbled  the  shrinking  hero  between 
swollen  lips.  "I  war  jest  gittin'  mad  enough  to  go  fur 
my  knife  when  Hank  gits  in  step  with  th'  music,  an'  jines 
ban's  with  us.     What  we  goin'  ter  do  with  'em?" 

"  Oh,  give  'em  a  kick  apiece  an'  turn  'em  loose  without 
thar  weapons,"  suggested  Hank. 

Tom  shook  his  head.  "They  come  from  Schoolcraft; 
let's  take  'em  back  to  him,"  he  suggested. 


126 "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

"Go  ahead!"  enthused  Abe.  Then  he  scratched  his 
head.  '*  But  who's  goin'  ter  watch  th'  goods  while  we're 
gone?    Jake  ain't  due  fer  couple  o'  hours  yet." 

"You  air!"  snorted  Hank.  "You  need  a  rest,  an' 
us  two  is  shore  enough."  He  prodded  the  figures  on  the 
ground  with  the  toe  of  his  moccasin.  "Git  up,  you 
squaw  dogs!"  he  ordered. 

In  a  moment  five  thoroughly  cowed  men  were  plodding 
before  their  guards.  The  sixth,  who  was  still  wandering 
about  on  the  far  side  of  the  boundary  of  consciousness, 
was  across  Tom's  shoulder.  Reaching  the  horse-dealer's 
shanty,  the  prisoners  opened  the  door  by  the  simple  ex- 
pedient of  surging  against  it  as  they  shrunk  from  the 
pricks  of  Hank's  skinning  knife.  The  two  men  inside 
escaped  the  crashing  door  by  vaulting  over  a  small  table, 
and  before  they  could  recover  their  wits  in  the  face  of 
this  amazing  return  of  their  friends  they  were  looking 
down  the  barrels  of  two  six-shooters. 

Tom  dumped  his  burden  onto  the  table,  kicked  a  chair 
through  a  closed  window,  swept  an  open  ink  bottle  onto 
Schoolcraft's  manly  stomach,  and  made  a  horrible  face  at 
the  pop-eyed  Mexican.  "  Hyar  they  air,  polecat,"  he 
growled.  "Any  more  raids  on  our  goods  an'  I  trail  ye 
an'  shoot  on  sight.  Don't  give  a  cuss  who  does  it,  or 
why;  ril  git  you.  If  I  miss,  Hank  won't;  an*  we  both 
got  good  friends.    Come  on.  Hank,  it  stinks  in  here." 

Tom  turned  and  stalked  out,  but  not  so  Hank.  He 
backed  out  behind  his  new-fangled  weapon,  pleasantly 
thinking  of  its  six  ready  shots,  slid  along  the  outside  of 
the  shack  and  then  waited  with  great  hope  for  a  head 
to  pop  out  of  the  door.  Having  had  no  chance  to  try 
out  the  Colt  he  was  curious  regarding  its  accuracy.     No 


THE   NEW  SIX-GUN  127 

head  popped,  however,  and  after  a  moment  he  sighed, 
slipped  along  the  corral  wall  and  crossed  the  street  when 
far  enough  aw^ay  to  be  covered  by  the  darkness.  Hank 
had  no  faith  in  hostile  humans  and  did  not  believe  in 
showing  off.  The  thieving,  treacherous  Crows  agreed 
that  the  brave  who  took  Hank  Marshall's  scalp  would  be 
entitled  to  high  honors ;  with  the  mournful  reflection  that 
by  the  time  it  was  taken,  if  ever,  the  tribe  would  have 
paid  a  very  high  price  for  it. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  CARAVAN 

AT  LAST  came  the  day,  and  the  dawn  of  it  showed  a 
^cloudless  sky,  a  sleeping  town  and  a  little  caravan 
winding,  with  rattle  of  chains  and  squeak  of  harness, 
past  the  silent,  straggling  houses,  bound  westward  for  the 
"prairie  ocean."  Despite  the  mud  and  the  slowness  of 
the  going  high  spirits  ruled  the  little  train.  Youth  was 
about  to  do  and  dare,  eager  for  the  gamble  with  fate; 
and  age  looked  forward  to  the  lure  of  the  well-known 
trail  even  as  it  looked  backward  in  memory  for  faces 
and  experiences  of  the  years  gone  by.  The  occasion 
was  auspicious,  for  the  start  was  prompt  to  the  minute 
and  earlier  than  any  they  would  make  later.  They  were 
on  the  luxuriant  and  better  wooded  eastern  rim  of  the 
great  plains,  and  would  be  on  it  for  several  days. 

Joe  Cooper,  driving  the  small  wagon  with  Patience 
seated  at  his  side,  led  the  way,  eager  and  exultant.  Fol- 
lowing him  closely  came  his  two  great  Pittsburg  wagons 
with  their  still  spotless  new  sheets,  each  loaded  with 
nearly  three  tons  of  selected  merchandise,  their  immense 
wheels  grumbling  a  little  as  they  slid  a  fraction  of  an 
inch  along  their  well-greased  axles,  their  broad,  new  tires 
squashing  out  twin  canyons  in  the  mud.  Next  came 
two  emigrant  wagons,  their  proprietors  fearing  that  they 
would  not  reach  the  Oregon-bound  train  at  its  rendez- 
vous in  time  to  leave  with  it.    Under  their  stained  and 

128 


THE   CARAVAN  129 

patched  canvases  two  women  slept  as  though  in  a  steady- 
bed,  their  children  at  their  sides.  Weeks  of  this  traveling 
had  given  to  them  the  boon  of  being  able  to  fall  asleep 
almost  at  will.  Then  came  Enoch  Birdsall  and  Alonzo 
Webb,  sober  and  gay,  abusing  each  other  humorously, 
each  in  his  own  wagon,  handling  their  strung-out  teams 
with  nonchalant  ease.  Close  to  the  rear  of  the  last  wagon 
came  the  eight  mules  of  Tom  Boyd  and  Hank  Marshall, 
four  to  a  string,  followed  by  their  horse-mounted  own- 
ers; and  behind  them  were  Jim  Ogden  and  Zeb  Hough- 
ton, each  driving  two  mules  before  them. 

The  road  was  in  execrable  condition,  its  deep  ruts 
masked  by  a  mud  as  miry  as  it  appeared  to  be  bottomless, 
and  several  times  the  great  wagons  were  mired  so  hard 
and  fast  that  it  took  the  great  ox  teams  of  Alonzo  and 
Enoch,  hooked  on  in  addition  to  the  original  mule  teams, 
to  pull  them  out;  and  the  emigrant  wagons,  drawn  by 
over-worked  oxen,  gave  nearly  as  much  trouble.  The 
story  of  their  progress  to  Council  Grove  would  be  tiring, 
since  it  would  be  but  little  more  than  a  recital  of  the  same 
things  over  and  over  again  —  the  problems  presented 
by  the  roads. 

At  Round  Grove  they  said  good-bye  to  the  emigrants, 
who  joined  the  rear  guard  of  their  own  caravan  at  this 
point.  Along  the  so-called  Narrows,  the  little  ridge 
forming  the  watershed  between  the  Kansas  and  Osage 
rivers,  for  a  stretch  extending  quite  some  distance  west- 
ward from  Round  Grove,  the  roads  were  hardly  more 
than  a  series  of  mudholes  filmed  over  and  masked  by 
apparently  firm  ground.  In  some  of  these  treacherous 
traps  the  wagons  often  sank  to  the  hubs,  and  on  two  oc- 
casions the  bottom  of  the  wagon-box  rested  on  the  mud. 


I30  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

It  was  hopeless  to  try  to  pull  them  out  with  the  animals 
so  deep  in  mud,  and  only  by  finding  more  firm  ground 
along  the  side  of  the  trail,  the  use  of  long  chains  and  the 
aid  of  every  draft  animal  in  the  train  were  the  huge 
wagons  dragged  out.  The  men  themselves  waded  into 
the  traps,  buried  at  times  almost  to  the  waist,  and  put 
their  shoulders  to  wheels  and  wagon-boxes  and  pushed 
and  heaved  and  floundered;  and  they  kept  their  spirits 
high  despite  the  penetrating  cold  of  the  mire.  Under 
these  conditions  stops  were  frequent  to  rest  both  teams 
and  men,  the  " noonings''  were  prolonged,  camp  made 
earlier  in  the  evening  than  was  usual  and  left  later  in 
the  morning.  The  tally  of  miles  was  disheartening,  and 
to  make  matters  worse  a  heavy  downpour  of  chiUing  rain 
fell  half  a  day  before  they  reached  no  Mile  Creek  which, 
besides  making  everyone  miserable  and  spoiling  the  cook- 
ing, swelled  the  stream  so  much  that  it  was  crossed  only 
with  the  greatest  difficulty. 

One  of  the  few  things  they  were  grateful  for  was  the 
fact  that  they  did  not  have  to  keep  regular  guard  watches 
at  night,  for  while  the  Kaws  and  Osages  might  steal  an 
animal  or  two  in  hope  of  receiving  a  little  whiskey,  pow- 
der, or  tobacco  for  its  return,  there  was  no  danger  of 
wholesale  stampeding,  and  a  man  or  two  was  sufficient 
to  watch  the  camp. 

One  pleasant  incident  occurred  when  they  pulled  in 
sight  of  Switzler's  Creek,  where  they  found  another  sec- 
tion of  the  caravan  in  camp.  The  augmented  train  now 
numbered  about  twenty-six  wagons  and  formed  a  rear 
guard  worthy  of  the  name.  The  weather  had  cleared 
again  and  the  sun  shone  brightly  all  the  way  to  Council 
Grove.    To  offset  the  pleasant  effect  of  joining  the  other 


THE   CARAVAN 13^ 

train,  it  was  at  Switzler's  Creek  that  a  hard-pushed  mule 
train  overtook  them.  With  it  came  the  Httle  Mexican 
and  half  a  dozen  of  his  compatriots,  and  several  of 
Ephriam  Schoolcraft's  chosen  bullies.  At  their  appear- 
ance Hank  Marshall  found  a  new  interest  in  life,  and 
there  was  very  little  occurring  in  the  new  mule  train  that 
he  missed.  His  habits  now  became  a  little  similar  to 
those  of  the  cat  tribe,  for  he  resorted  to  his  old  trick  of 
dozing  while  riding,  catching  naps  at  the  noonings,  be- 
fore dark  and  after  dawn.  With  him  awake  at  night  and 
Tom  awake  during  the  day,  and  with  Jim  Ogden's  and 
Zeb  Houghton's  nocturnal  prowlings  thrown  in  the  bal- 
ance, it  looked  as  though  Hank's  remark  about  "  nobody 
ketchin'  these  beavers  asleep"  would  be  fully  justified. 

Council  Grove  was  reached  pne  noon,  and  they  learned 
that  they  would  have  plenty  of  time  to  do  the  many 
little  things  neglected  on  the  way,  for  they  would  stay 
here  two  days.  This  was  welcome  news,  as  it  gave  them 
an  opportunity  to  let  the  draft  animals  rest  and  feed  well 
in  preparation  for  the  long  prairie  haul  ahead. 

Council  Grove  of  the  caravan  days  is  worthy  of  notice. 
It  was  the  meeting  place  as  well  as  the  council  place  for 
those  who  were  to  cross  the  prairies  together.  To  it  ran 
the  feeding  roads,  gradually  growing  as  strands  feed  a 
rope,  the  loose  and  frayed  ends  starting  from  the  Mis- 
souri River  points  and  converging  as  they  neared  the 
grove.  Named  from  a  council  and  a  treaty  which  took 
place  there  between  a  government  commission  sent  out 
to  survey  a  wagon  road  to  the  Arkansas  River,  and  a 
tribe  of  Osages,  in  which  safety  for  the  traders  was  ob- 
tained from  these  savages,  it  was  doubly  well  named 
because  of  the  yearly  councils  which  were  held  between 


132  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

the  traders  themselves  to  perfect  the  organization  of  the 
caravan. 

The  grove  itself,  of  oak,  ash,  hickory,  elm,  and  many 
other  kinds  of  trees,  was  about  half  a  mile  wide  and  ex- 
tended along  the  sides  of  the  little  valley  of  Council 
Grove  Creek,  a  large  tributary  of  the  Neosho  River. 
With  its  dense  timber,  its  rich  bottom  pastures,  and  fine, 
high  prairies  it  made  an  ideal  spot  for  a  rendezvous; 
and  it  was  about  the  last  of  the  really  fine  and  productive 
country  seen  from  Independence.  Here  were  hard 
woods  in  plenty,  the  last  to  be  found  on  the  long  trip, 
from  which  to  obtain  replacements  for  broken  axles  and 
other  wagon  parts.  This  also  was  the  farthest  point 
reached  by  the  trains  without  real  organization,  for  from 
here  on  every  important  movement  was  officially  ordered. 

Scattered  about  the  beautiful,  green  little  valley  were 
wagons  great  and  small,  and  piles  of  mule  packs,  each 
camp  somewhat  by  itself.  There  was  much  calling  and 
getting  acquainted,  fun  and  frolic,  much  hewing  of  trees, 
mending  of  gear,  and,  in  general,  busy  preparation  for 
the  journey  over  the  land  of  the  short  buffalo  grass. 
Tenderfeet  wasted  their  time  and  ammunition  at  target 
practice  or  in  hunting  for  small  game,  and  loafed  to 
their  hearts'  content;  but  the  experienced  traveler  put 
off  his  loafing  and  play  until  he  knew  that  he  had  done 
everything  there  was  to  be  done.  There  were  horse  races 
and  mule  races  and  even  ox- team  races;  tugs  of  war, 
running,  jumping,  and,  in  fact,  everything  anyone  could 
think  of  to  help  pass  the  time. 

After  a  good  night's  sleep  the  Cooper  party  found 
there  was  little  to  do  except  to  get  timber  for  "  spares,'* 
and  notwithstanding  that  a  spare  axle  was  slung  from 


THE  CARAVAN  133 

under  each  of  the  huge  freighters,  Uncle  Joe  insisted 
that  each  wagon  carry  another,  and  he  personally  su- 
perintended the  cutting.  They  had  been  obtained  and 
slung  in  place  beside  the  others  when  a  bugle  was  heard 
and  criers  passed  among  the  little  camps  calling  everyone 
for  roll  call.  Nearly  two  hundred  persons  answered,  all 
but  one  of  them  being  men,  and  then  the  electioneering 
began  for  the  choice  of  captain.  To  be  a  success  a  cara- 
van must  have  one  head,  and  the  more  experienced  he 
was  the  better  it  would  be  for  the  caravan. 

Now  came  the  real  excitement  of  the  day,  for  party 
spirit  was  strong  and  insistent,  and  the  electioneering 
was  carried  on  with  such  gusto  that  several  fights  grew 
out  of  it.  There  were  four  parties  at  first,  among  which 
was  Mike  WardelFs,  comprising  the  rougher,  more  law- 
less frontier  element.  He  was  a  close  friend  of  Ephriam 
Schoolcraft  and  he  had  his  admirers  outside  of  his  own 
class,  for  a  group  of  tender  feet  which  was  impressed  by 
his  swaggering,  devil-may-care  manners  backed  him  in 
a  body ;  and  another  group  which  was  solidly  behind  him 
was  composed  of  the  poorer  Mexican  traders.  The  sec- 
ond of  the  larger  parties  with  a  candidate  in  the  field, 
who  had  been  nominated  by  a  series  of  caucuses,  was 
made  up  of  the  more  experienced  and  more  responsible 
traders,  veterans  of  the  trail  who  put  safety  and  order 
above  all  other  considerations.  This  party  nominated 
Zachary  Woodson,  who  had  more  wagons  in  the  cara- 
van than  any  other  one  man,  therefore  having  more  at 
stake,  and  who  had  not  missed  his  round  trip  over  the 
route  for  a  dozen  years.  His  nomination  split  the  Mex- 
icans, for  half  of  them  had  wagons  and  valuable  freights, 
and  were  in  favor  of  the  best  leadership. 


134  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

At  first  Woodson  flatly  refused  to  run,  sneeringly  re- 
minding his  friends  of  the  lack  of  cooperation  he  could 
expect  from  the  very  men  who  needed  law  and  order  and 
leadership  most.  He  knew  by  bitter  experience  that  the 
captain  of  a  Santa  Fe  caravan  had  no  real  authority  and 
that  his  orders  were  looked  upon  as  mere  requests,  to  be 
obeyed  or  not,  as  the  mood  suited.  He  was  obdurate  in 
his  refusal  until  a  split  occurred  in  the  other  strong  party 
and  resulted  in  a  disgraceful  fight  among  its  members, 
which  was  kept  from  having  disastrous  results  only  by 
the  determined  interposition  of  the  more  resolute  mem- 
bers of  his  own  party.  This  caused  the  two  smaller  fac- 
tions to  abandon  their  own  candidates  and  throw  them- 
selves against  Wardell,  and  resulted  in  the  overwhelming 
election  of  the  man  best  suited  for  the  position. 

His  first  act  after  grudgingly  accepting  the  thankless 
leadership  was  to  ask  for  a  list  of  the  men,  wagons,  and 
pack  animals,  and  he  so  engineered  the  division  of  them 
that  each  section  had  as  its  lieutenant  a  man  whom  he 
could  trust  and  who  did  not  lack  in  physical  courage  so 
much  needed  to  get  some  kind  of  order  and  to  keep  it. 
The  great  train  was  divided  into  four  divisions,  at  the 
present  to  join  so  as  to  march  in  two  columns ;  but  later 
to  spread  out  and  travel  in  divisional  order  of  four 
straight  columns  abreast,  far  enough  apart  so  that  the 
width  of  the  whole  front  roughly  would  equal  the  length 
of  a  column. 

Next  came  the  arrangement  of  the  watches,  the  most 
cordially  hated  of  all  caravan  duties.  In  this  train  of 
nearly  ninety  wagons  there  were  nearly  one  hundred  and 
eighty  men  physically  able  to  stand  a  guard,  and  no  one 
who  was  able  to  stand  his  trick  was  let  off.    The  captain 


THE   CARAVAN  135 

preferred  the  regular  and  generally  accepted  system  of 
two  watches,  each  of  four  squads,  which  put  one  squad 
on  duty  for  three  hours  each  alternate  night;  but  there 
were  so  many  men  for  this  disagreeable  task  that  he 
allowed  himself  to  be  over-ruled  and  consented  to  a 
three  watch  system,  six  squads  to  the  watch,  which  put 
one  watch  of  nine  men  and  a  corporal  on  duty  for  two 
hours  every  third  night.  Almost  any  concession  was 
worth  making  if  it  would  arouse  a  little  interest  and  a 
sense  of  duty  in  this  very  important  matter  of  guarding 
the  camp.  The  corporal  of  each  squad  arranged  to  shift 
up  one  tour  each  time  their  squad  went  on,  which  would 
give  no  one  squad  the  same  hours  for  its  successive  tours 
of  duty.  Nothing  could  have  been  fairer  than  this,  but 
there  were  objectors  in  plenty.  Each  one  of  the  kickers 
had  his  own,  perfect  plan.  Some  wanted  smaller  squads 
with  the  same  number  of  watches  so  that  each  tour  of 
duty  would  be  less;  some  wanted  two  watches  and 
smaller  squads,  to  the  same  end,  both  of  which  would 
have  caused  endless  changing  of  the  guard,  endless  awak- 
enings all  night  long,  with  practically  continuous  noise 
and  confusion.  Captain  Woodson,  having  abandoned 
the  regular  and  tried  system  so  as  to  let  the  men  feel  a 
sense  of  cooperation,  flatly  refused  to  allow  any  fur- 
ther changes,  and  in  consequence  earned  the  smoldering 
grudges  of  no  small  number,  which  would  persist  until 
the  end  of  the  trail  and  provide  an  undercurrent  of  dis- 
satisfaction quick  to  seize  on  any  pretext  to  make  trouble. 
For  the  division  officers  he  chose  the  four  men  he  had 
in  mind,  after  over-ruling  a  demand  for  a  vote  on  them. 
As  long  as  he  was  responsible  for  the  safety  of  the  cara- 
van he  declared  that  it  was  his  right  to  appoint  lieuten- 


136  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

ants  whom  he  knew  and  could  trust.  The  bickering  had 
fresh  fuel  and  continued  strong  all  day,  and  it  would  last 
out  the  journey. 

Arranging  the  divisions  so  'far  as  possible  to  put 
friends  together,  with  the  exception  of  some  of  the  ten- 
derfoot parties,  they  were  numbered,  from  left  to  right, 
as  they  would  travel,  and  he  was  careful  to  put  the  more 
experienced  plainsmen  on  the  two  outside  ranks  and, 
where  possible,  the  better  drivers  in  the  two  inner  col- 
umns. These  latter  had  a  little  more  complex  course  to 
follow  in  case  of  sudden  need  to  corral  the  caravan.  For 
corralling  while  traveling  in  two  columns,  he  instructed 
the  drivers  to  follow  the  wagon  ahead  and  to  stop  when 
his  own  wagon  tongue  came  even  with  the  rim  of  the  rear 
wheel  of  the  wagon  he  was  following.  In  case  of  cor- 
ralling in  face  of  danger,  they  were  to  swing  their  teams 
to  the  inside  of  the  leading  wagon,  so  as  to  have  all  the 
animals  on  the  inside  of  the  corral;  in  ordinary  camping 
they  were  to  swing  their  teams  in  the  other  direction,  so 
the  anirhals  would  be  ready  to  graze  outside  of  the  cor- 
ralled wagons.  They  were  to  pay  no  attention  to  direc- 
tion or  to  sudden  inspirations,  but  were  blindly  to  follow 
the  wagon  in  front  of  them  and  to  close  up  the  gaps. 
The  leading  driver  of  each  column  would  set  the  curving 
track  which  would  bring  the  wagons  into  a  great  ellipse 
or  a  circle  while  moving  in  the  two  column  formation. 

The  first  and  fourth  columns  were  commanded  by  Jim 
Ogden  and  Tom  Boyd,  while  the  two  inner  columns  were 
under  a  trader  named  Haviland  and  a  sullen,  mean-tem- 
pered trader  of  Independence  and  a  warm  friend  of 
Schoolcraft.  His  name  was  Franklin,  and  while  his  per- 
sonal attributes  were  unpleasant  and  ho  was  a  leader  of 


THE   CARAVAN  137 

the  Schoolcraft  element,  he  was  a  first  class  caravan  man 
and  had  proved  his  coolness  and  resourcefulness  in  many 
a  tight  place.  His  appointment  also  served  in  a  measure 
to  placate  the  rebellious  element,  which  nursed  the 
thought  that  it  could  do  about  as  it  pleased  in  its  own 
column.  Whether  they  were  right  or  wrong  in  this  re- 
mained to  be  seen.  While  the  two  column  formation  was 
in  use  the  first  and  second  divisions  made  up  one  of 
them;  the  third  and  fourth,  the  other.  To  Tom's  de- 
light he  found  that  the  Cooper  wagons  had  been  assigned 
to  his  own  division;  but  as  an  offset  to  this  two  wagons 
belonging  to  gallivanting  tenderf eet  had  been  placed 
directly  behind  them.  It  was  not  pleasant  to  think  of 
these  dandified  city  sports  being  so  close  to  Patience 
Cooper  all  the  way  to  Santa  Fe.  Like  many  men  in  love, 
he  was  prone  to  discount  the  intelligence  and  affections 
of  the  loved  one  and  to  let  his  fears  threaten  his  com- 
mon sense. 

The  first  great  watch  went  on  duty  at  seven  o'clock, 
that  night,  more  for  the  purpose  of  breaking  the  men  in 
to  their  work  than  for  any  need  of  defense,  for  no 
Indian  troubles,  despite  the  rumors  afloat  in  Independ- 
ence, were  to  be  looked  for  so  far  east.  There  was  a 
great  deal  of  joking  and  needless  challenging  that  night 
and  very  little  attempt  to  follow  instructions.  An  Indian 
likes  nothing  better  than  a  noisy,  standing  sentry;  but 
this  savage  preference  hardly  would  be  shown  in  the 
vicinity  of  Council  Grove.  Woodson  knew  that  disci- 
pline could  not  be  obtained  and  that  every  man  would 
do  as  he  pleased  until  the  encampment  received  a  good 
scare,  but  his  own  sense  of  responsibility  impelled  him 
to  make  an  effort  to  get  it. 


138  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

The  next  day  was  passed  in  resting,  in  placing  the 
wagons  in  their  order  of  march,,  and  in  drilHng  the  drivers 
in  caravan  tactics ;  and  that  night  the  guard  was  as  noisy 
as  it  had  been  the  night  before.  The  squad  which  went 
on  duty  at  one  o'clock  contained  two  tenderfeet  and 
between  them  they  succeeded  in  shattering  the  monotony. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  after  the  guard  had  been  changed 
tenderfoot  Number  One  thought  he  heard  a  sound  and 
saw  a  movement.  He  promptly  challenged  and  fired  in 
the  same  instant.  His  weapon  was  a  double-barreled 
fowling  piece  charged  with  buckshot,  and  there  was  no 
doubt  about  the  deadly  efficiency  of  such  a  combination 
when  the  corporal  found  the  carcass  of  a  mule  with  a 
hole  in  it  nearly  as  big  as  a  hat.  The  camp  was  thrown 
into  an  uproar,  guns  flashed  from  the  wagons  to  the 
imminent  peril  of  the  rest  of  the  sentries,  and  only  the 
timely  and  rough  interference  of  a  cool-headed  trapper 
kept  the  two  four-pounders  from  being  fired.  They 
were  loaded  with  musket  balls  and  pebbles  and  trained 
on  three  wagons  not  fifty  yards  from  them.  Orders, 
counter  orders,  suggestions,  shouts  for  balls,  powder, 
flints,  caps,  patches,  ramrods,  and  for  about  everything 
human  minds  could  think  of  kept  the  encampment  in  a 
pandemonium  until  sense  was  driven  into  the  panicky 
men  and  the  camp  allowed  to  resume  its  silence. 

Tenderfoot  Number  Two  heard  and  saw  an  Indian 
approaching  him  and  fired  his  pistol  at  the  savage.  This 
took  place  near  the  end  of  the  same  guard  tour.  Only 
his  fright  and  the  poor  light  which  made  his  wobbling 
aim  all  the  more  uncertain  saved  the  life  of  his  best 
friend  who,  restless  and  lonely,  was  going  out  to  share 
the  remainder  of  the  watch  with  him.     Agaifi  pande- 


THE   CARAVAN 139 

monium  reigned  and  weapons  exploded,  but  this  time  the 
cattle  stampeded  in  the  darkness,  doing  the  best  they 
could  with  their  handicap  of  hobbles. 

At  dawn  the  caravan  was  astir,  the  blast  from  the 
bugle  not  needed  this  time,  for  almost  every  man  had 
animals  to  hunt  for  and  drive  in,  and  as  a  result  of  this 
breakfasts  were  late  and  the  whole  day's  operations  were 
thrown  out  of  step.  Finally  after  all  the  stampeded  ani- 
mals had  been  rounded  up  and  the  morning  meal  was  out 
of  the  way,  and  things  done  at  the  last  minute  which 
should  have  been  done  the  day  before,  preparations  were 
started  to  get  under  way.  Mules  and  horses  broke  loose 
and  had  to  be  chased  and  brought  back;  animals  balked 
and  kicked  and  helped  to  turn  the  camp  into  a  scene  of 
noisy  confusion.  Several  parties  found  that  they  had 
neglected  to  cut  spare  axles  and  forthwith  sallied  off  to 
get  them.  Others  frantically  looked  for  articles  they 
had  misplaced  or  loaned,  one  wagon  being  entirely  un- 
packed to  find  a  coffee  pot  and  a  frying  pan  which  some- 
one else  later  discovered  at  the  edge  of  the  creek  where 
they  had  been  dropped  after  they  had  been  washed,  their 
owner  having  left  them  to  get  a  shot  at  a  squirrel  he 
thought  he  saw.  The  forehanded  and  wiser  members  of 
the  caravan  took  advantage  of  the  delay  and  turmoil  ta 
cut  an  extra  supply  of  firewood  against  a  future  need, 
add  to  their  store  of  picket  stakes  and  also  to  fill  their 
water  casks  to  keep  them  swelled  tight  beyond  question, 
against  the  time  when  the  much  dreaded  dry  stretch 
should  be  reached. 

At  last  from  the  captain's  camp  the  well-known  sum- 
mons of  '*  Catch  up ! "  was  heard,  and  passed  on  from 
group  to  group  along  the  creek.     Those  who  had  not 


I40 "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

yet  hitched  up  their  teams,  almost  at  every  case  old  hands 
at  the  game  who  were  wise  enough  to  let  their  animals 
graze  until  the  last  minute,  now  exultantly  drove  in  their 
teams  and  filled  the  little  valley  with  the  rattle  of  chains, 
the  clicking  of  yokes,  the  braying  of  indignant  mules,  and 
their  own  vociferations.  Soon  a  teamster  yelled  "All's 
set!"  and  answering  shouts  rolled  up  and  down  the 
divisions.  At  the  shouted  command  of  "Stretch  out!'* 
whips  cracked,  harness  creaked,  chains  rattled  and  wag- 
ons squeaked  as  the  shouting  drivers  straightened  out 
their  teams.  "  Fall  in ! "  came  next,  and  the  teams  were 
urged  into  the  agreed-upon  order,  the  noses  of  the  lead- 
ers of  one  team  close  to  the  tailboard  of  the  wagon  ahead. 
The  second  and  third  divisions,  falling  in  behind  the  first 
and  fourth,  made  two  strings  rolling  up  the  long  western 
slope  of  the  valley  toward  the  high  prairie  at  its  crest. 

Songs,  jokes,  exultant  shouts  ran  along  the  trains  as 
the  valley  was  left  behind,  for  now  the  caravan  truly  was 
embarked  on  the  journey,  and  every  mile  covered  put 
civilization  that  much  farther  in  the  rear.  Straight 
ahead  lay  the  trail,  beaten  into  a  plain,  broad  track  lead- 
ing toward  the  sunset,  a  mark  which  could  not  be  mis- 
taken and  which  rendered  the  many  compasses  valueless 
so  far  as  the  trail  itself  was  concerned. 

The  first  day's  travel  was  a  comparatively  short  one, 
and  during  the  drive  the  officers  rode  back  along  the  lines 
and  again  explained  the  formation  which  would  be  used 
at  the  next  stopping  place.  This  point  was  so  near  that 
the  caravan  kept  on  past  the  noon  hour  and  did  not  stop 
until  it  reached  Diamond  Spring,  a  large,  crystal  spring 
emptying  into  a  small  brook  close  to  a  very  good  camp- 
ing ground.    The  former  camp  no  sooner  had  been  left 


THE   CARAVAN  141 

than  the  tenderfeet  began  to  show  their  predilection  to  do 
as  they  pleased  and  to  ride  madly  over  the  prairie  in 
search  of  game  which  was  not  there,  finally  gravitating 
to  a  common  body  a  mile  or  more  ahead  of  the  wagons, 
a  place  to  which  they  stuck  with  a  determination  worthy 
of  better  things. 

At  Diamond  Spring  came  the  first  clash  against 
authority,  for  the  captain  had  told  each  lieutenant  to 
get  his  division  across  all  streams  before  stopping.  The 
word  had  been  passed  along  the  twin  lines  and  seemed 
to  have  been  tacitly  accepted,  yet  when  the  wagons 
reached  the  brook  many  of  the  last  two  divisions,  think- 
ing the  farther  bank  too  crowded  and  ignoring  the  for- 
mation of  the  night  encampment,  pulled  up  and  stopped 
on  the  near  side.  After  some  argument  most  of  them 
crossed  over  and  took  up  their  proper  places  in  the  corral, 
but  there  were  some  who  expressed  themselves  as  being 
entirely  satisfied  to  remain  where  they  were,  since  there 
was  no  danger  from  Indians  at  this  point.  The  animals 
were  turned  loose  to  graze,  restrained  only  by  hobbles 
until  nightfall,  the  oxen  in  most  cases  yoked  together  to 
save  trouble  with  the  stubborn  beasts  until  they  should 
become  trained  and  more  docile.  They  were  the  most 
senseless  of  the  draft  animals,  often  stampeding  for  no 
apparent  cause;  the  sudden  rattle  of  a  chain  or  a  yoke 
often  being  all  that  was  needed  to  turn  them  into  a 
fleshy  avalanche;  and  while  the  Indians  did  not  want 
oxen,  they  seemed  to  be  aware  of  the  excitable  natiures 
of  the  beasts  and  made  use  of  their  knowledge  to  start 
stampedes  among  the  othter  animals  with  them,  much 
the  same  as  fulminate  of  mercury  is  used  to  detonate  a 
charge  of  a  more  stable  explosive. 


142  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

The  first  two  watches  of  the  night  were  pleasant,  but 
when  Tom  Boyd's  squad  went  on  duty  an  hour  before 
midnight  there  was  a  change  in  the  weather,  and  before 
half  an  hour  had  passed  the  rain  fell  in  sheets  and  sent 
some  of  the  guards  to  seek  shelter  in  the  wagons.  Two 
of  them  were  tenderfeet,  one  of  Schoolcraft's  friends  and 
a  trader.  Tom  was  the  so-called  corporal  of  this  watch 
and  he  was  standing  his  trick  as  vigilantly  as  if  they 
were  in  the  heart  of  the  Kiowa  or  Comanche  country. 
He  carefully  had  instructed  his  men  and  had  posted  them 
in  the  best  places,  and  he  knew  where  each  of  them 
should  be  found.  After  half  an  hour  of  the  downpour 
he  made  the  rounds,  called  the  roll  and  then  slipped  back 
into  the  encampment  in  search  of  the  missing  men.  Not 
knowing  them  well  enough  at  this  time  he  did  not  know 
the  wagons  to  which  they  belonged,  and  he  had  to  wait 
until  later  to  hunt  them  out. 

Dawn  found  a  wet  and  dispirited  camp  as  the  last 
guard  returned  to  the  wagons  an  hour  before  they  should 
have  left  their  posts.  Not  a  fire  would  burn  properly  and 
not  a  breakfast  was  thoroughly  cooked.  Everyone 
seemed  to  have  a  chip  on  his  shoulder,  and  the  animals 
were  mean  and  rebellious  when  driven  in  for  the  hobbles 
to  be  removed  and  picket  ropes  substituted  to  hold  them. 
Breakfast  at  last  over,  the  caravan  was  about  to  start 
when  Tom  went  along  his  own  division  and  called  four 
men  together. 

"Last  night  you  fellers  quit  yer  posts  an'  slunk  back 
ter  yer  wagons,"  he  said,  ominously.  "Two  of  ye  air 
tenderfeet,  an*  green  ter  this  life;  one  is  a  trader  an' 
th'  other  is  an  old  hand  on  th'  trail.  You  all  ought  ter 
know  better.     Tm  lettin'  ye  off  easy  this  time,  but  th' 


THE   CARAVAN 143 

next  man  that  breaks  guard  is  goin'  ter  git  a  cussed  fine 
lickin'.  If  it's  necessary  I'll  make  an  invalid  out  o'  any 
man  in  my  squad  that  sneaks  off  his  post.  Git  back  ter 
yer  wagons,  an'  don't  fergit  what  I've  said/' 

The  tenderfeet  were  pugnacious,  but  doubtful  of  their 
ground;  the  trader  was  abashed  by  the  keen  knowledge 
of  his  guilt  and  the  enormity  of  his  offense.  He  was  a 
just  man  and  had  no  retort  to  make.  The  teamster,  a 
bully  and  a  rough,  with  a  reputation  to  maintain,  scowled 
around  the  closely  packed  circle,  looking  for  sympathy, 
and  found  plenty  of  it  because  the  crowd  was  anxious  to 
see  the  corporal,  as  personifying  authority,  soundly 
thrashed.  They  felt  that  no  one  had  any  right  to  expect 
a  man  to  stand  guard  in  such  a  rain  out  in  the  cheerless 
dark  for  two  hours,  especially  when  it  was  admitted  that 
there  was  no  danger  to  be  feared.  Finding  encourage- 
ment to  justify  his  attitude,  and  eager  to  wipe  out  the 
sting  of  the  lecture,  the  bully  grinned  nastily  and  took  a 
step  forward. 

"  Reg'lar  pit-cock,  ain't  ye  ?  "  he  sneered.  "  High  an' 
mighty  with  yer  mouth,  ain't  ye  ?  Goin'  ter  boss  things 
right  up  ter  th'  hilt,  you  air!  Wall,  ye  —  I'm  wettin' 
yer  primin',  hyar  an' " 

Tom  stopped  the  words  with  a  left  on  the  mouth,  and 
while  the  fight  lasted  it  was  fast  and  furious ;  but  clumsy 
brute  strength,  misdirected  by  a  blind  rage,  could  not 
cope  with  a  greater  strength,  trained,  agile,  and  cool; 
neither  could  a  liquor  soaked  carcass  for  long  take  the 
heavy  punishment  that  Tom  methodically  was  giving  it 
and  come  back  for  more.  As  the  bullwhacker  went  down 
in  the  mud  for  the  fifth  time,  there  was  a  finality  about 
the  fall  that  caused  his  conqueror  to  wheel  abruptly  from 


144 ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

him  and  face  the  ring  of  eager  and  disappointed  faces. 

**I  wam't  too  busy  ter  hear  some  o'  th'  remarks,"  he 
snarled.  "Now's  th'  time  ter  back  'em  up!  If  ye  don't 
it  makes  a  double  liar  out  o'  ye!  Come  on — step  out, 
an'  git  it  over  quick ! "  He  glanced  at  the  two  pugnacious 
tender  feet.  "  You  two  make  about  one  man,  th'  way  we 
rate  'em  out  hyar;  come  on,  both  o'  ye!" 

While  they  hesitated.  Captain  Woodson  pushed  through 
the  crowd  into  the  ring,  closely  followed  by  Tom's  grim 
and  silent  friends,  and  a  slender  Mexican,  the  latter  obvi- 
ously solicitous  about  Tom's  welfare.  In  a  few  moments 
the  excitement  died  down  and  the  crowd  dispersed  to  its 
various  wagons  and  pack  animals.  As  Tom  went  toward 
his  mules  he  saw  Franklin,  the  tough  officer  of  the  third 
division,  facin-g  a  small  group  of  his  own  friends,  and 
suddenly  placing  his  hand  against  the  face  of  one  of  them, 
pushed  the  man  off  his  balance. 

"I'll  cut  yer  spurs,"  Franklin  declared.  "Fust  man 
sneaks  off  guard  in  my  gang  will  wish  ter  G  —  d  he 
didn't ! "  He  turned  aw^ay  and  met  Tom  face  to  face. 
"  We'll  larn  'em,  Boyd,"  he  growled.  "  I'm  aimin'  ter 
bust  th*  back  o'  th'  first  kiyote  of  my  gang  that  leaves 
his  post  un watched.  If  one  o'  them  gits  laid  up  fer  th' 
rest  o'  th'  trip  th'  others'll  stand  ter  it,  rain  or  no  rain. 
Ye  should  'a'  kicked  in  his  ribs  while  ye  had  'im  down ! " 

After  a  confused  and  dilatory  start  the  two  trains 
strung  out  over  the  prairie  and  went  on  again;  but  the 
rebellious  wagon-owners  on  the  east  side  of  the  creek 
were  not  with  the  caravan.  They  were  learning  their 
lesson. 

The  heavy  rain  had  swollen  the  waters  of  the  stream, 
stirred  up  its  soft  bed  and  turned  its  banks  into  treacher- 


THE   CARAVAN  145 

ous  inclines  slippery  with  mud.  When  the  mean-spirited 
teams  had  been  hooked  to  the  wagons  and  sullenly  obeyed 
the  commands  to  move,  they  balked  in  mid-stream  and 
would  not  cross  it  in  their  "  cold  collars ; "  and  there  they 
remained,  halfway  over.  In  vain  the  drivers  shouted  and 
swore  and  whipped ;  in  vain  they  pleaded  and  in  vain  they 
called  for  help.  The  main  part  of  the  caravan,  for  once 
united  in  spirit,  perhaps  because  it  was  a  mean  one,  went 
on  without  them,  knowing  that  the  recalcitrant  rear 
guard  was  in  no  danger;  the  sullen  spirit  of  meanness  in 
every  heart  rejoicing  in  the  lesson  being  learned  by  their 
stubborn  fellow  travelers.  The  captain  would  have  held 
up  the  whole  train  to  give  necessary  assistance  to  any 
unfortunate  wagoner;  but  there  was  no  necessary  assist- 
ance required  here,  for  they  could  extricate  themselves 
if  they  went  about  it  right ;  and  there  was  a  much-needed 
lesson  to  be  assimilated.  Their  predicament  secretly 
pleased  every  member  of  the  main  body,  which  was 
somewhat  humorous,  when  it  is  considered  that  the  great 
majority  of  the  men  in  the  main  body  had  no  scruples 
against  disobeying  any  order  that  did  not  suit  their 
mood. 

Finally,  enraged  by  being  left  behind,  the  stubborn 
wagoners  remembered  one  of  the  reasons  advanced  by 
the  captain  the  day  before  when  he  had  urged  them  to 
cross  over  and  complete  the  corral.  He  had  spoken  of 
the  difficulty  of  getting  the  animals  to  attempt  a  hard 
pull  in  "  cold  collars,"  when  they  would  do  the  work  with- 
out pausing  while  they  were  "warmed  up."  So  after 
considerable  eloquence  and  persistent  urging  had  availed 
them  naught,  the  disgruntled  wagoners  jumped  into  the 
cold  water,  waded  to  the  head  of  the  teams  and,  turning 


146  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

them  around,  got  them  back  onto  the  bank  they  had  left 
after  vainly  trying  to  lead  them  across.  Once  out  of  the 
creek,  the  teams  were  driven  over  a  circle  a  mile  in  cir- 
cumference to  get  their  "collars  warm."  Approaching 
the  creek  at  a  good  pace,  the  teams  crossed  it  without 
pausing  and  slipped  and  floundered  up  the  muddy  bank  at 
the  imminent  risk  of  overturning  the  wagons.  Reaching 
the  top,  they  started  after  the  plodding  caravan  and  in  due 
time  overtook  it  and  found  their  allotted  places  in  the 
lines,  to  some  little  sarcastic  laughter.  Never  after  that 
did  those  wagoners  refuse  to  cross  any  stream  at  camp 
time,  while  their  teams  were  warmed  up  and  willing  to 
pull ;  but  instead  of  giving  the  captain  any  credit  for  his 
urging  and  his  arguments,  wasted  the  day  before,  they 
blamed  him  for  going  on  without  them,  and  nursed  a 
grudge  against  him  and  his  officers  that  showed  itself  at 
times  until  the  end  of  the  long  journey.  They  would  not 
let  themselves  believe  that  he  would  have  refused  really 
to  desert  them. 

The  caravan  made  only  fifteen  miles  and  camped  on  a 
rise  of  the  open  prairie,  where  practice  was  obtained  in 
forming  a  circular  corral,  with  the  two  cannons  on  the 
crest  of  the  rise.  The  evolution  was  performed  with 
snap  and  precision,  the  sun  having  appeared  in  mid-fore- 
noon and  restored  the  sullen  spirits  to  natural  buoyancy. 
The  first  squad  of  the  watch  went  on  duty  with  military 
promptness,  much  to  the  surprise  of  the  more  experienced 
travelers.  Here  for  the  first  time  was  adopted  a  system 
of  grazing  which  was  a  hobby  with  the  captain,  who 
believed  that  hobbled  animals  wasted  too  much  time  in 
picking  and  choosing  the  best  grass  and  in  wandering 
around.    He  maintained  that  picketed  animals  would  eat 


THE   CARAVAN 147 

more  in  the  same  time,  and  so  each  wagoner  was  given 
a  stretch  of  prairie  as  wide  as  the  space  occupied  by  his 
wagon  and  reaching  out  about  one  hundred  yards,  fan- 
wise,  from  the  corral.  Picket  ropes  of  from  twenty  to 
thirty  feet  in  length  let  each  animal  of  his  team  graze 
over  a  circle  of  that  radius,  the  center  being  a  stake  of 
hardwood  two  inches  thick  and  about  two  feet  long. 
Some  of  the  pickets  were  pointed  with  iron  and  had  a 
band  of  the  same  metal  shrunk  around  the  upper  and 
near  the  top  to  keep  them  from  splitting  under  repeated 
axe  blows.  Many  of  the  others  had  their  points  hardened 
by  fire,  and  a  pointed  hickory' or  ash  picket  so  treated 
will  stand  a  lot  of  abuse.  Before  dark  the  pickets  were 
shifted  to  new  places  and  the  animals  left  to  graze  all 
night,  for  Indian  visits  still  were  a  matter  of  the  future. 

After  they  had  finished  their  supper  and  washed  and 
put  away  the  few  utensils,  Tom  as  usual  drifted  off  to 
spend  an  hour  or  two  with  Uncle  Joe  and  Patience.  He 
had  not  been  gone  long  before  Hank  got  up  to  loosen  a 
pack  to  get  a  fresh  plug  of  smoking  tobacco,  and  caught 
sight  of  Pedro,  the  Mexican,  sauntering  toward  him. 
The  visitor  grinned  cheerfully  and  sat  down  by  the  dying 
fire,  acting  as  though  he  had  every  reason  to  be  accorded 
a  cordial  welcome. 

"  Hah ! "  exclaimed  the  self-invited  guest  in  rare  good 
humor.  "  Eet  ess  good  to  get  out  on  thee  gr-reat  pr-rairie ; 
but  eet  would  haf  been  better  eef  we  had  went  weeth 
thee  fir-rst  tr-rain.  Weeth  that  tr-rain  was  thee  tr-roops. 
We  would  be  better  pr-rotect." 

Hank  was  undecided  whether  he  should  turn  his  back 
on  the  visitor  and  walk  away,  or  grab  him  by  the  collar 
and  the  slack  of  his  trousers  and  throw  him  from  the  fire. 


148 "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

when  habitual  cunning  made  him  grunt  his  endorsement 
of  the  other's  remarks.  He  never  was  above  acquiring 
what  information  he  could  get,  no  matter  how  trivial  it 
might  be. 

"Yeah,"  he  replied,  passing  the  plug  to  his  guest. 
*'  Fill  yer  pipe,  or  make  a  cigarette,''  he  invited.  "  Them 
danged  settlements  air  all  right  fer  a  change,  but  this 
hyar  is  a  hull  lot  better;  an'  th'  mountings  air  better'n 
this.  As  fer  th'  dragoons  with  th'  fust  train,  it's  plumb 
welcome  to  'em.  Thar  more  trouble  than  thar  worth; 
an'  they  alius  will  be  till  they  larn  ter  fight  Injuns  in  th' 
Injim  way.  Th'  idear  o'  usin'  th'  right  hand  fer  a  sword 
an'  th'  left  fer  a  pistol!  I'd  ruther  be  with  a  passel  o' 
mounting  boys,  fur's  fightin'  Injuns  air  consarned.  Any- 
how, jest  when  they  git  whar  they're  needed  most,  down 
on  th'  edge  o'  th'  Kiowa  an'  Comanche  country,  th' 
danged  dragoons  has  ter  stop." 

"  But  seiior ;  they  must  not  tr-read  on  Mexican  soil," 
protested  Pedro. 

Hank  grinned  and  choked  down  the  retort  he  was 
about  to  make,  nodding  his  head  instead.  *'  Shore;  that's 
th'  trouble.  Now,  if  that  danged  Governor  o'  youm 
would  meet  th'  train  at  Cimarron  Crossin'  an'  go  th'  rest 
o'  th'  way  with  it,  thar'd  be  some  sense  ter  troop  escorts. 
Thar  ain't  a  sojer  along  th'  worst  stretch  o'  th'  whole 
trail.  I'll  bet  ye  we  won't  see  hide  ner  hair  o'  'em  this 
side  o'  Cold  Spring,  when  th'  danger  from  raidin'  Injuns 
is  'most  over." 

Pedro  spread  his  hands  helplessly.  "  That  ees  but  too 
tr-rue,  senor.  Theese  time  we  weel  not  see  thee  br-rave 
tr-roops  of  Mexico  befor-re  we  r-reach  thee  Wagon 
Mound." 


THE   CARAVAN 149 

"Thar!"  triumphantly  exclaimed  Hank.  *'What  did 
I  tell  ye  ?  They  used  ter  git  as  fur  as  Cold  Spring,  any- 
how; but  now  thar  waitin'  at  th'  Wagon  Mound.  Next 
thing  we  know  they'll  be  waitin'  at  San  Miguel  fer  ter 
see  us  safe  th'  last  fifty  miles  through  th'  settlements!" 

"Eet  ees  thee  Apaches  that  ar-re  to  blame  theese 
time,"  explained  Pedro  with  oily  smoothness.  "They 
ar-re  ver'  bad  theese  year  along  thee  Rio  Gr-rande  del 
Norte.    Ver' bad!" 

"Yeah,"  grunted  Hank,  puffing  reflectively  on  his 
pipe.  "Mexico  an'  Texas  both  claim  all  that  country 
east  o'  th'  Grande,  but  th'  Apaches  shore  own  it,  an'  run 
it  ter  suit  theirselves.    Bad  Injuns,  they  air." 

"Thee  customs  they  ar-re  ver'  str-rict  theese  year," 
commented  Pedro,  closely  watching  his  companion. 
"  They  ar-re  ver'  har-rd  on  my  poor  countrymen.  They 
keep  thee  pr-rices  so  high  on  all  theese  goods." 

"Tarnation  bother,"  grunted  Hank,  beginning  to  get 
the  reason  for  the  Mexican's  interest  in  him.  "  Too  bad 
we  don't  know  somebody  that  kin  git  us  past  'em,"  he 
suggested,  hopefully. 

Pedro  rubbed  his  hands  complacently  and  helped  to 
maintain  a  prolonged  silence;  which  at  last  was  broken 
by  small  talk  concerning  the  caravan  and  its  various 
members.  After  half  an  hour  of  this  aimless  conversa- 
tion he  arose  to  leave. 

"Thee  customs,  as  you  haf  so  tr-ruly  said,  ar-re  ver' 
gr-reat  bother,  Seiior  Hank.  I  know  thees  ver'  much, 
for  I  haf  a  br-rother  in  thee  custom  house.  We  ar-re  ver' 
close,  my  br-rother  an'  me.  I  weel  see  you  again,  senor. 
Eet  ees  good  that  we  get  acquaint,  weeth  so  ver'  many 
milla  yet  to  tr-ravel  together.    Buenos  noches,  sefior." 


I50 "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

"Good  night,"  replied  Hank,  carefully  pulling  the 
unburned  wood  out  of  the  fire  to  serve  for  the  cooking 
of  the  breakfast.  He  glanced  after  the  dapper  Mexican 
and  grinned,  re-roped  the  pack,  and  wandered  off  to  join 
his  trapper  friends  at  their  fire. 

"Grease  is  slippery;  an'  so  is  greasers,"  he  chuckled. 
"  Wall,  thar's  plenty  o'  time  to  figger  jest  what  he's  arter. 
Might  be  cheatin'  th'  customs,  an'  then  ag'in  it  might 


CHAPTER  X 

EN  ROUTE 

TOM'S  duties  as  a  lieutenant  were  to  supervise  his 
column,  ride  ahead  of  the  train  on  lookout  for  pos- 
sible obstructions  or  dangers,  go  on  ahead  to  creeks  and 
see  that  the  banks  sloped  enough  to  permit  the  wagons 
to  take  them  safely,  to  hunt  out  and  bridge  morasses  and 
quagmires  that  could  not  be  avoided.  If  the  banks  were 
too  steep  he  and  others  of  the  caravan  were  to  ride  ahead 
with  axes,  shovels,  and  mattocks  and  cut  a  sloping  road 
through  them ;  if  a  morass  or  a  treacherous  creek  bed  had 
to  be  crossed  they  had  to  cut  great  numbers  of  saplings, 
branches,  and  brush  and  build  up  a  causeway  of  alter- 
nate layers  of  wood  and  dirt.  This  would  not  take 
long  and  if  properly  done,  every  wagon  could  cross  in 
safety. 

The  caravan  in  movement  should  have  presented  a 
formation  of  wagons  in  orderly  array,  preceded  by  the 
captain  and  officers,  flanked  at  a  good  distance  on  both 
sides  by  well-armed  riders,  and  followed  by  a  fairly 
strong  rear-guard;  but  no  such  ideal  formation  could  be 
maintained  except  under  the  discipline  of  a  military  or 
paid  force.  The  flankers  rode  far  and  wide  searching 
endlessly  for  game  and  usually  wound  up  with  the  ad- 
vance guard,  a  mile  or  more  ahead.  The  rear  guard 
dwindled  rapidly  and  soon  joined  the  others  far  in  ad- 
vance, leaving  the  crawling  wagons  entirely  unprotected 

iSi 


152 ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

from  any  sudden  attack  by  Indians  who  might  have  lain 
concealed  in  one  of  the  numerous  prairie  hollows. 

There  were  four  conditions  every  twenty- four  hours 
especially  liked  by  the  savages.  One  was  during  the 
night,  between  midnight  and  dawn ;  another  as  the  cara- 
van got  under  way,  when  there  was  more  or  less  confusion 
and  the  wagons  had  broken  the  corral  formation  enough 
so  it  could  not  be  re-formed  quickly ;  a  third  w^as  during 
the  day  when  every  man  who  did  not  have  to  drive  was 
galivanting  a  mile  or  more  away,  blazing  at  rattlesnakes 
or  prairie  dogs  and  making  a  fool  of  himself  generally, 
his  thoughts  on  everything  except  the  safety  of  the  train 
he  had  deserted;  and  the  fourth  was  in  the  evening  just 
as  the  animals  were  being  staked  outside,  when  most  of 
the  men  were  busy  with  them  and  some  distance  outside 
the  wagon  ramparts,  many  of  the  more  careless  being 
unarmed.  To  offset  these  conditions  so  favorable  to  sur- 
prise attacks  on  the  caravan  was  one  of  the  captain's  most 
important  duties,  and  the  urgent  consideration  of  water 
and  good  grass  many  times  complicated  his  problems. 

Captain  Woodson  at  one  time  had  been  a  trapper,  and 
his  early  experiences  with  the  fur  expeditions  here  stood 
him  in  good  stead,  especially  his  knowledge  about  Indians. 
He  continually  hammered  at  the  men  to  flank  properly 
and  to  scour  the  country  on  each  side  of  the  caravan  for 
a  mile  or  more  and  to  investigate  every  hollow  and  rise 
capable  of  hiding  horses.  Before  he  called  the  halt  for 
the  "noonings"  or  the  encampments  in  the  evenings,  he 
urged  that  the  surrounding  country  be  well  scouted  over 
and  everything  suspicious  reported.  For  the  crews  of 
the  two  cannons,  which  had  been  changed  the  morning 
following  the  narrow^ly  averted  calamity  of  a  few  days 


EN  ROUTE  I5J 


back,  he  had  picked  men  who  appeared  to  be  calm  and 
resourceful,  and  these  weapons  trundled  along  on  their 
wheeled  carriages  in  a  strategic  position,  their  crews 
ordered  not  to  leave  them  unattended  at  any  time  during 
the  day's  march  —  but  who  cared  for  orders? 

The  trail  here  being  easy  and  plain,  the  banks  of  the 
streams  cut  by  the  previous  caravan,  Tom  dropped  back 
after  a  brief  exploration  along  the  flanks,  which  he  made 
because  the  flankers  would  not,  to  join  his  partner  and 
their  pack  train,  plodding  along  on  the  left-hand  side  of 
Joe  Cooper's  wagons. 

Hank  was  a  placid,  easy-going  individual  and  cared 
little  whether  or  not  he  had  company.  For  the  last  few 
days  he  had  been  highly  amused  by  watching  several  pack 
animals  owned  and  led  by  tenderfeet,  who  had  learned 
neither  to  follow  them  nor  to  load  them  right.  These 
green  travelers  were  continually  in  trouble.  If  they  were 
not  arguing  with  mules  gone  balky  because  of  unevenly 
distributed  loads,  or  chasing  some  running  and  kicking 
animal  that  scattered  the  contents  of  its  pack  far  and 
wide  over  the  plain,  they  were  collecting  their  possessions 
piece-meal  from  a  score  of  acres  of  prairie  and  hurriedly 
re-packing  somewhere  behind  the  caravan,  cursing,  per- 
spiring, out  of  breath,  and  murderously  savage.  Some 
of  them  re-packed  more  than  a  dozen  times  a  day  and 
were  hard  put  even  to  keep  the  caravan  in  sight.  Their 
natural  anger  at  their  misfortunes  was  turned  into  a  sim- 
mering or  a  coruscating  rage,  that  ever  and  anon  burst 
out  with  volcanic  force  as  they  realized  the  utter  hope- 
lessness of  their  position.  This  was  for  the  first  few 
days,  for  the  wiser  ones  used  their  eyes  and  ears  and 
mouths  to  good  advantage,  and  soon  got  the  knack  of 


154  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

packing;  but  there  were  some  who  seemingly  were  too 
dumb  to  learn. 

Hank  never  obtruded  any  advice,  but  cheerfully  ex- 
plained the  art  of  packing  to  any  man  who  sought  him. 
He  and  his  partner's  animals  never  shifted  a  pack  on  this 
smooth  going,  and  this  fact  began  to  sink  into  some  of 
the  tender  feet,  and  they  eagerly  took  lessons  from  the 
veteran.  It  was  not  long  before  a  spilled  pack  in  that  col- 
umn of  the  train  was  an  uncommon  occurrence.  These 
eight  mules  behaved  in  an  admirable  manner  and  there 
was  a  good  reason  for  it.  When  they  had  been  selected, 
only  those  showing  the  unmistakable  signs  of  the  veteran 
pack  mule  were  chosen.  The  marks  of  the  crupper, 
aparejo  and  girth  never  would  disappear.  Tenderfeet 
scornfully  would  have  passed  them  by  and  chosen  sleek, 
smooth-haired  animals  of  far  better  appearance;  but 
Hank  and  Tom  did  not  make  this  mistake,  realizing  that 
here,  indeed,  beauty  was  only  skin  deep. 

Hank  judged  that  it  was  about  time  to  take  full  ad- 
vantage of  the  mules'  early  training  and  the  results  were 
regarded  as  downright  miracles  by  the  greenhorns,  who 
attempted  to  duplicate  the  system,  but  with  disastrous 
endings.  One  of  the  mules  was  an  old  mare,  and  her 
actions,  even  in  the  corral  at  Independence,  told  Hank 
all  about  her.  He  now  took  from  a  pack  a  bell  and. 
riding  up  to  the  plodding,  sedate  pack  animal,  fastened 
it  around  her  neck.  Then  he  tied  her  to  the  rear  of  the 
second  of  Cooper's  big  wagons,  until  she  should  learn 
that  this  was  to  be  her  place  under  all  conditions,  and 
dropped  back  farther  and  farther  while  he  watched  the 
other  seven.  At  the  sound  of  the  tinkling  bell  they  had 
pricked  up  their  long  ears  and  rolled  them  forward;  a 


EN  ROUTE  155 


certain  important  dignity  came  over  each  one  and  they 
went  ahead  with  an  air  of  satisfaction  that  was  so  appar- 
ent that  it  was  ludicrous.  Hank  grinned  and  rode  off  to 
play  rear  guard  all  by  himself,  well  knowing  that  his 
seven  animals  would  follow  the  old  bell-mare  wherever 
she  led,  whether  he  was  there  or  not.  Later  he  rewarded 
her  by  changing  her  pack  and  substituting  that  of  the 
dwindling  food  supply,  which  grew  lighter  after  every 
camp.  When  he  finally  freed  her  from  the  wagon  she 
moved  up  alongside  the  off-wheel  mule,  for  whom  she 
seemed  to  have  an  abiding  affection,  and  from  then  on 
she  would  not  stray  from  his  side,  nor  her  seven  follow- 
ers from  her. 

On  this  occasion  when  Tom  returned  and  found  his 
partner  absent,  he  surmised  that  the  trapper  was  off  look- 
ing for  an  antelope  to  vary  the  monotony  of  their  fare 
and  to  save  their  bacon  and  flour.  Until  the  buffalo 
country  was  reached  the  caravan  had  to  live  on  flour, 
bacon,  and  perhaps  beans,  of  which  each  traveler  had 
a  limited  supply.  The  chief  reliance  for  food  was  the 
buffalo,  and  their  range  was  still  well  ahead.  Tom  and 
Hank,  however,  not  knowing  what  contingency  awaited 
them  on  the  Mexican  end  of  the  trail,  had  far  exceeded 
the  regular  allowance  per  man,  of  fifty  pounds  of  flour, 
same  of  bacon,  dozen  pounds  of  coffee,  twenty-five 
pounds  of  sugar,  and  a  goodly  amount  of  salt.  Topping 
one  of  the  packs,  and  dwarfing  the  patient  mule  nearly 
hidden  under  the  load,  were  two  ten-gallon  water  casks, 
each  with  a  few  quarts  sloshing  around  inside.  At  every 
stop  these  kegs  were  shifted  a  little  so  as  to  give  each 
portion  of  them  a  soaking  in  turn.  The  powder,  two 
twenty-five  pound  kegs  covered  with  oiled  cloth  and  over 


156  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

that  with  a  heavy,  greased  bull-buffalo  leather,  were  in 
the  same  packs  with  the  bar  lead  and  a  reserve  suppl)^ 
of  caps  and  patches.  The  bullet  molds,  nipple  wrenches, 
and  other  small  necessaries  were  carried  in  their  "  possi- 
ble'* sacks,  each  being  a  beautifully  beaded  and  quilled 
bag  obtained  in  their  trade  with  the  Indians.  Along  with 
the  ammunition  each  had  packed  a  buffalo-hide  bag,  fitted 
with  shoulder,  breast,  and  head  lines;  and  should  it  be- 
come necessary  for  them  to  disappear,  without  a  mule, 
they  were  equipped  to  remain  in  the  mountains  and  hills 
for  a  long  time.  Later  on  they  would  pack  the  big  bags 
and  keep  them  ready  for  instant  use. 

Tom  found  not  only  that  his  partner  had  gone,  but  that 
the  city  sports,  tiring  of  aimless  riding  ahead,  had  fallen 
back  to  the  train  and  were  now  riding  leg  to  leg  on  both 
sides  of  Joe  Cooper's  small  wagon,  vying  with  each  other 
in  their  endeavors  to  be  entertaining  to  Patience.  They 
were  laughing  uproariously  when  the  plainsman  appeared 
and  one  of  them.  Dr.  Whiting,  acknowledged  his  intro- 
duction to  Tom  with  an  ironical  grin.  Here,  he  thought, 
was  a  mountain  yokel  all  ripe  to  play  target  for  his  shafts 
of  satire.  He  would  shine  out  resplendently  against  this 
ignorant  plainsman  and  have  a  lot  of  fun  in  the  bargain. 

"Ah!"  he  exclaimed,  his  mouth  open  in  pretended 
admiration.  "Regular  Daniel  Boone!  I  suppose  you 
know  how  to  bark  squirrels ;  and  barking  buffaloes  must 
be  an  old  trick  with  you  by  this  time." 

Tom  regarded  him  thoughtfully.  He  did  not  mind  the 
words,  but  the  tone  in  which  they  were  spoken  was 
distinctly  offensive.  He  smiled  pleasantly.  "  Thar  ain't 
no  squirrels  ter  bark  on  th'  prairies;  but  thar  air  some 
barkin'  prairie  dogs,  though  they  mostly  chatter  'stead  o' 


EN   ROUTE  157 


bark.  They  set  up  an'  make  a  lot  o'  noise,  but  don't 
amount  to  nothin'.  Th'  funny  part  o'  it  is,  th'  dumber 
they  air  th'  more  they  chatter.  As  fer  bein'  Dan'l 
Boone,  tenderfeet  mostly  find  it  a  boon  ter  have  a  Dan'l 
handy  afore  this  air  trail  is  left."  He  gravely  acknowl- 
edged the  introduction  to  the  others  and  looked  at  Pa- 
tience again,  and  from  her  back  to  the  saddled  horse  tied 
to  the  rear  of  the  wagon.  "  Feel  like  a  little  ride,  Miss 
Cooper"  he  asked.  "Must  be  tirin'  settin'  up  thar  mile 
arter  mile  listenin'  to  th'  chatterin'." 

She  nodded,  holding  back  her  laughter,  and  Tom  led 
up  the  horse. 

"  But,  Miss  Cooper ! "  expostulated  the  doctor.  "  What 
are  we  going  to  do  without  you?  We  are  desolate! 
Might  I  offer  you  a  noble  escort,  six  trusty,  knightly 
blades  to  flash  in  your  defense?" 

She  smiled  sweetly  but  shook  her  head.  "When  we 
reach  the  Indian  country  I  will  be  very  glad  to  accept 
such  an  escort;  but  out  here  I  would  not  think  of  im- 
posing on  your  generosity.  This  seems  to  be  Mr.  Boyd's 
expedition;  perhaps  he  may  invite  you." 

Tom  shook  his  head  sadly.  "Reckon  I'll  have  all  I 
kin  do  to  look  arter  Miss  Cooper  in  case  we  meets  airy 
Injuns,  without  botherin'  with  six  Hashes.  See  you-all 
later,  mebby." 

They  drew  rein  and  waited  for  the  crawling  column 
to  pass  them,  smiling  and  nodding  in  reply  to  the  cheer- 
ful salutations  of  the  wagoners  and  traders.  Pedro,  the 
slender  Mexican,  who  took  such  a  deep  interest  in  the 
doings  of  Tom  Boyd,  removed  his  wide  hat  and  bowed, 
in  true  cavalier  fashion,  showing  his  gleaming  teeth  in  a 
pearly  smile.    The  interest  the  plainsman  was  showing  in 


158  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS' 

his  pretty  companion  was  an  assurance  that  Tom  Boyd 
would  need  no  further  persuasion  to  enter  the  Mexican 
settlements.  Franklin,  the  leader  of  the  third  division, 
temporarily  the  second  section  of  Tom's  column,  allowed 
himself  the  luxury  of  a  sullen  smile.  He  knew  his  part 
in  the  scheme  of  Pedro  and  Schoolcraft  perfectly  and 
had  no  thought  of  deviating  from  it,  but  he  could  not 
help  admiring  the  upstanding  plainsman,  who  was  a  man 
after  his  own  heart.  They  were  bound  together  by  a 
common  interest,  the  safety  of  the  caravan,  and  until 
they  were  met  by  the  escort  of  Mexican  cavalry,  some- 
where near  Rock  Creek  or  the  Canadian  River,  Franklin 
gave  little  heed  to  personal  grudges.  All  he  was  sup- 
posed to  do  was  to  see  that  the  plainsman  did  not  leave 
the  caravan  for  good  before  the  escort  met  it. 

The  two  four-pounders  trundled  along  their  rumbling 
way,  only  one  man  to  each  gun,  the  rest  of  their  crews 
off  with  the  advance  guard.  Tom  glanced  at  the  all  but 
deserted  weapons  and  frowned.  Franklin,  noticing  it, 
frowned  in  reply.  It  was  not  because  full  cannon  crews 
were  needed  on  this  part  of  the  trail,  but  because  both 
men  knew  that  it  would  be  the  same  all  the  way. 

After  the  last  wagon  had  passed,  Tom  and  his  compan- 
ion rode  forth  and  turned  when  half  a  mile  from  the 
column,  riding  ahead  on  a  course  parallel  with  it.  The 
prairie  was  studded  with  the  earlier  flowers  of  spring, 
in  some  places  a  rich  carpet  of  delicate  colors.  Suddenly 
Tom  pointed  to  a  gray  object  nearly  covered  with  earth, 
dried  grass  of  the  year  before,  and  the  fresh  greenery 
of  this  season's  slender  blades  pushing  up  through  it. 

"  Buffalo  skull,"  he  explained.  "  Let's  look  at  it ;  it 
may  tell  us  something  interesting. " 


EN  ROUTE  159 


They  rode  close  to  it  and  the  plainsman  nodded  in 
quick  understanding. 

"  That  bull  was  killed  by  an  Indian,"  he  said.  "  Notice 
that  it  faces  the  west?  They  place  them  that  way  to 
propitiate  their  gods.  A  skull  hardly  lasts  more  than 
three  years  on  the  prairie,  which  means  that  this  animal 
was  killed  about  that  long  ago.  It  is  more  than  likely 
that  he  was  an  old,  renegade  bull,  wandering  far  from 
the  herd  to  die  alone.  The  significant  fact  is,  however, 
that  not  more  than  three  years  ago  he  grazed  here  and 
was  here  killed  by  an  Indian;  coupled  to  that  is  another 
significant  fact,  about  one  hundred  thousand  buffalo 
skins  are  taken  to  the  settlements  every  year.  Remember- 
ing both  those  facts  and  adding  another*  that  it  will  be 
some  days  before  we  see  even  such  a  bull  on  the  very 
outskirts  of  the  buffalo  range,  what  does  it  mean  ?  And 
here  is  a  fact  I  nearly  overlooked;  those  hundred  thou- 
sand skins  taken  each  year  are  from  cow  buffalo."  He 
shook  his  head  sadly.  "  The  day  of  the  buffalo,  countless 
as  their  numbers  still  are,  is  fast  setting.  Their  range  is 
shrinking  hour  by  hour,  almost;  and  a  comparatively 
few  years  more  will  see  them  gone.  Wait  till  you  witness 
the  brainless  slaughter  when  the  herds  are  met  with. 
Ah,  well,  we  are  a  prodigal  race,  Miss  Cooper,  spending 
our  natural  heritage  with  almost  a  drunken  recklessness. 
If  it  were  drunken  there  might  be  found  some  excuse  for 
us ;  but  we  are  doing  it  in  our  sober  senses.  Excuse  me, 
when  I  get  to  thinking  along  those  lines  I'm  afraid  I  get 
a  little  fanatical.  There's  something  more  interesting," 
he  said,  pointing  to  the  north.     "  See  it  ?  " 

After  a  moment's  intense  scrutiny  she  shook  her  head, 
and  looked  up  at  him  inquiringly. 


i6o  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

"I  forget  that  you  haven't  a  plainsman's  eyes,"  he 
laughed,  "accustomed  to  focussing  for  long  distances. 
Why,  over  there,  well  beyond  that  series  of  flat-topped 
prairie  swells,  is  a  red  handkerchief  waving  lazily  in  the 
air.  It  is  fastened  to  a  ramrod,  and  I'm  willing  to  bet 
that  it  belongs  to  Hank  Marshall.  He  has  been  grumbling 
about  a  steady  diet  of  bacon.  Now  that  we  are  getting 
into  antelope  country,  his  disappearance  from  his  trained 
mules  is  easily  explained.  I  can  promise  you  and  Uncle 
Joe  antelope  meat  tonight.  He  never  would  have  planted 
that  flag  if  he  hadn't  seen  his  victim;  and  while  we  are 
a  long  way  off,  let's  ride  on  so  he  won't  be  able  to  blame 
us  if  he  fails  to  get  his  shot." 

Patience  was  laughing  heartily,  and  hurriedly  ex- 
plained the  cause  of  her  mirth. 

"  I  saw  him  tie  the  bell  to  that  old  mule's  neck.  The 
sudden  pride  she  showed,  the  quick  alertness  of  the  other 
seven,  and  the  satisfaction  shared  equally  by  the  mules 
and  your  partner  was  one  of  the  most  ludicrous  sights 
I've  ever  seen.  When  Uncle  Joe,  who  was  in  his  best 
vein,  explained  the  whole  affair,  I  laughed  until  I  cried. 
Is  it  true  that  the  seven  worshipers  won't  leave  her?" 

Tom,  laughing  in  sympathy  with  her  mirth,  nodded. 
"  Picket  her,  with  her  bell  on,  and  we  can  let  the  others 
graze  without  hobbles  or  ropes.  They  won't  leave  her. 
Don't  ask  me  why,  for  if  you  do  I  can  only  answer 
by  saying  that  they  have  been  trained  that  way;  why  it 
is  possible  for  them  to  be  trained  in  such  a  way,  and  so 
easily,  is  beyond  me.  When  we  left  Independence  Hank 
and  I  caught  many  a  scornful  glance  directed  at  our 
ate  jo,  for  I  must  confess  that  it  was  made  up  of  eight 
scarecrows ;  but  handsome  is  as  handsome  does,  and  now 


EN  ROUTE  i6i 


our  pack  train  troubles  are  confined  solely  to  packing 
and  unpacking  the  animals.  We  don't  even  have  to 
remember  what  pack  or  aparejo  belongs  to  each  mule; 
they  know  their  own  unerringly,  and  will  shower  kicks 
on  any  careless  or  stupid  companion  who  blunders  up  to 
the  wrong  pack.  Perhaps  you've  heard  that  mules  are 
stupid;  that's  something  that  you  can  discount  heavily. 
They  are  stupid  only  when  it  serves  their  purpose."  He 
laughed  again.  "  We  have  one  mule  that  takes  a  thrash- 
ing every  morning,  regular  as  a  clock.  Hank  calls  him 
'Dummy,'  but  I  am  not  sure  that  he  is  well  named.  I 
can't  decide  whether  he  is  dumb  or  perverse.  But  the 
fact  remains  that  he  never  selects  his  own  pack,  and  gets 
kicked  along  the  line  until  he  reaches  it  by  elimination. 
I  shall  enjoy  studying  him  as  we  go  along.'* 

As  they  jogged  on,  a  strip  of  timber  running  almost 
at  right  angles  to  their  course  and  thinning  out  to  the 
north  in  about  the  same  proportion  that  it  thickened  to 
the  south,  came  in  sight  and  Tom  knew  it  to  be  Cotton- 
wood Creek,  and  their  last  glimpse  of  the  waters  of  the 
Neosho.  He  well  remembered  the  somewhat  sharp  bend 
formed  by  it  on  the  farther  side,  which  was  taken  advan- 
tage of  by  some  caravans  and  the  corral  formation 
ignored.  A  line  of  closely  spaced  wagons  across  the 
neck  of  the  bend  made  corral  enough. 

"Well,  we  better  get  back  to  the  caravan,"  he  said. 
"While  the  creek  is  all  right  there  are  many  who  are 
only  waiting  for  a  chance  to  cry  that  the  officers  are 
remiss  in  their  duties.  I'll  leave  you  with  your  uncle, 
well  guarded  by  six  trusty  knights,  and  go  ahead  with 
the  advance  guard." 

She  glanced  at  him  out  of  the  corner  of  her  eye  and 


i62 "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

the  repression  of  her  smile  did  not  seriously  affect  the 
witchery  of  the  dimples. 

"  I  was  a  little  afraid  that  I  might  become  lonesome 
on  this  long  journey;  but  things  have  turned  out  splen- 
didly. Don't  you  think  Dr.  Whiting  has  a  very  dis- 
tinguished air?" 

"Very;  it  would  distinguish  him  out  of  hundreds," 
replied  Tom,  scowling  at  the  timber  fringe  ahead.  "  He 
is  quite  impressive  when  he  is  silent.  It's  a  pity  he 
doesn't  realize  it." 

He  turned  in  the  saddle  and  looked  behind.  "What 
did  I  say?  There  comes  Hank,  with  an  antelope  slung 
before  his  saddle.  I  doubt  if  the  doctor  would  need  the 
red  handkerchief;  antelope  are  notoriously  affected  by 
anything  curious." 

She  turned  away  and  regarded  the  caravan  studiously. 
"  Isn't  every  man  expected  to  do  his  share  in  the  general 
duties  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Yes;  but  most  of  them  dodge  obligations.  When 
we  left  Council  Grove  more  than  half  of  the  members  of 
the  train  were  friendly  to  Woodson.  By  the  time  we 
leave  Cimarron  his  friends  will  be  counted  on  the  fingers 
of  your  two  hands.  That  is  only  what  he  expects,  so  it 
won't  come  as  an  unpleasant  surprise. " 

"  What  is  the  doctor's  party  supposed  to  do  ?  " 

"  Two  of  them  have  been  assigned  to  the  rear  guard ; 
the  other  four,  to  our  right  flank.  They  can  be  excused 
somewhat  because  of  their  greenness.  Besides,  they  only 
came  along  for  the  fun  of  it.  In  the  college  of  life  they 
are  only  freshmen.  Its  seriousness  hasn't  sunk  in  yet. 
The  majority  of  the  shirkers  should  know  better,  and 
have  their  fortunes,  meagre  as  they  may  be,   at  stake. 


EN  ROUTE  163 


Well,  here  we  are.  You  don't  know  how  much  I've 
enjoyed  our  ride.  Uncle  Joe,"  he  said  as  Patience  set- 
tled into  the  wagon  seat,  '*here  she  is,  safe  and  sound. 
ril  drop  around  with  some  antelope  meat  by  the  time 
you  have  your  fire  going." 

"  It's  been  ten  years  since  I've  broiled  game  over  a 
fire,"  chuckled  the  driver.  *'  I'm  anxious  to  get  my  hand 
in  again.    Thank  you,  Tom." 

Tom  fastened  the  horse  to  the  rear  of  the  wagon, 
waved  to  his  friends,  and  loped  ahead  toward  the  nearing 
creek. 


CHAPTER  XI 

INDIAN   COUNTRY 

AFTE'R  an  enjoyable  supper  of  antelope  meat,  Hank 
,  Marshall  drifted  over  to  visit  Zeb  Houghton  and 
Jim  Ogden,  and  judging  from  the  hilarity  resulting  from 
his  call,  it  was  very  successful.  The  caravan  was  now 
approaching  the  Indian  country  and  was  not  very  far 
from  the  easternmost  point  where  traders  had  experi- 
enced Indian  deviltry.  Neither  he  nor  his  friends  were 
satisfied  with  the  way  guard  was  kept  at  night,  and  he 
believed  that  a  little  example  was  worth  a  deal  of  pre- 
cept. On  his  way  back  to  his  own  part  of  the 
encampment  he  dropped  over  to  pay  a  short  visit  to 
some  tender  feet,  two  of  whom  were  to  mount  guard  that 
night.  Jim  Ogden,  sauntering  past,  discovered  him  and 
wandered  over  to  borrow  a  pipeful  of  tobacco. 

"Wall,"  said  Ogden,  seating  himself  before  the  cheer- 
ful fire,  "  'twon't  be  long  now  afore  we  git  inter  buffaler 
country,  an'  kin  eat  food  as  is  food.  Arter  ye  sink  yer 
teeth  inter  fat  cow  an'  chaw  a  tongue  or  two,  ye'll  shore 
forgit  what  settlement  beef  tastes  like.  That  right. 
Hank?" 

"  It's  shore  amazin'  how  much  roast  hump  ribs  a  man 
kin  store  away  without  feelin'  it,"  replied  Hank.  "  But 
thar's  alius  one  drawback  ter  gittin'  inter  th'  buffaler 
range ;  whar  ye  find  buffaler  ye  find  Injuns,  an'  nobody 
kin  tell  what  an  Injun's  goin'  ter  do.    If  they  only  try  ter 

164 


INDIAN  COUNTRY  165 

stampede  yer  critters  yer  gittin'  off  easy.  Take  a  Pawnee 
war-party,  headin'  fer  th'  Comanche  or  Kiowa  country, 
fer  instance.  Thar  off  fer  ter  steal  hosses;  but  thar 
primed  ter  fight.  If  thar  strong  enough  a  caravan'll 
look  good  ter  'em.  One  thing  ye  want  ter  remember :  if 
th'  Injuns  ain't  strong,  don't  ye  pull  trigger  too  quick; 
as  long  as  yer  rifle's  loaded  thar'll  be  plumb  respectful, 
but  soon's  she's  empty,  look  out." 

"  I've  been  expecting  to  see  them  before  this,"  said 
one  of  the  hosts. 

"Wall,  from  now  on  mebby  ye  won't  have  ter  strain 
yer  eyes,"  Hank  remarked.  "  They  like  these  hyar  timber 
fringes,  whar  they  kin  sneak  right  up  under  yer  nose. 
They  got  one  thing  in  thar  favor,  in  attackin'  at  night; 
th'  twang  o'  a  bow-string  ain't  heard  very  fur ;  but  onct 
ye  hear  it  ye'll  never  fergit  th'  sound.  Ain't  that  so, 
Jim?" 

Jim  nodded.  "  Fer  one,  I'm  keepin'  an  eye  open  from 
now  on.    Wall,  reckon  I'll  be  movin'  on." 

"Where  do  you  expect  to  run  into  Indians?"  asked 
one  of  the  men  near  the  fire. 

Jim  paused,  half  turned  and  seemed  to  be  reflecting. 
"'Most  any  time,  now.  Shore  ter  git  signs  o'  'em  at 
th'  little  Arkansas,  couple  o'  days  from  now.  May  run 
inter  'em  at  Turkey  Creek,  tomorrow  night." 

Hank  arose,  emptied  his  pipe,  and  looked  at  Jim. 
"Jine  ye,  fur's  our  fire,"  he  said,  and  the  two  friends 
strolled  away.  They  had  not  been  gone  long  when  two 
shadowy  figures  met  and  stopped  not  far  from  the  ten- 
derfeet's  fire,  and  held  a  low-voiced  conversation,  none 
of  which,  however,  was  too  low  to  be  overheard  at  the 
fire. 


1 66  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

"  How'd'y,  Tom." . 

"How'd'y,  Zeb." 

"On  watch  ter  night?" 

"No;  you?" 

"No.    Glad  of  it." 

"Me,  too." 

"  This  is  whar  Taos  Bill  war  sculped,  ain't  it  ?  " 

"  They  killed  'im  but  didn't  git  his  ha'r." 

"How'd  it  happen?" 

"  Owl  screeched  an'  a  wolf  howled.  Bill  snuk  off  ter 
find  out  about  it." 

"Arrer  pizened?" 

"  Yes ;  usually  air." 

"Wharyegoin'?" 

"Ter  th'  crick  fer  water." 

"I'm  goin'  ter  see  th'  capting.     Good  night." 

"  Good  night;  wish  it  war  good  mornin',  Zeb." 

"Me,  too.     Good  night." 

At  that  instant  an  owl  screeched,  the  quavering,  eerie 
sound  softened  by  distance. 

"Hear  that?" 

The  mournful  sound  of  a  wolf  floated  through  the 
little  valley. 

"An'  that?  Wolves  don't  generally  answer  owls,  do 
they?" 

"  Come  along  ter  th'  crick,  Zeb.    Thar  ain't  no  tellin'." 

"I'm  with  ye,"  and  the  two  figures  moved  silently 
away. 

The  silence  around  the  camp-fire  was  profound  and 
reflective,  but  there  was  some  squirming  and  surreptitious 
examination  of  caps  and  flints.  The  questioning  call  of 
the  hoot  owl  was  answered  by  a  weird,  uncanny,  sue- 


INDIAN  COUNTRY  167 

cession  of  sharp  barks  growing  closer  and  faster,  ending 
in  a  mournful,  high-pitched,  long-drawn,  quavering 
howl.  The  noisy  activity  of  the  encampment  became 
momentarily  slowed  and  then  went  on  again. 

The  first  guard  came  off  duty  with  an  apparent  sense 
of  relief  and  grew  very  loquacious.  One  of  them  joined 
the  silent  circle  of  tenderfeet  around  the  blazing  fire. 

"Phew!"  he  grunted  as  he  sat  down.  "Hear  those 
calls?"  His  question  remained  unanswered,  but  he  did 
not  seem  surprised.    "  When  you  go  on,  Doc  ?  "  he  asked. 

"One  o'clock,"  answered  Dr.  Whiting.  He  looked 
around  pityingly.  "  Calls  ?  "  he  sneered.  "  Don't  you 
know  an  owl  or  a  wolf  when  you  hear  one  ?  "  There  was 
a  lack  of  sincerity  in  his  voice  which  could  not  be  dis- 
guised. The  doctor  was  like  the  boy  who  whistled  when 
going  through  the  woods. 

Midnight  came  and  went,  and  half  an  hour  later  the 
corporal  of  the  next  watch  rooted  out  his  men  and  led 
them  off  to  relieve  the  present  guard.  He  cautioned  them 
again  against  standing  up. 

"  To  a  Injun's  eyes  a  man  standin'  up  on  th'  prairie  is 
as  plain  as  Chimbly  Rock,"  he  asserted.  "Besides,  ye 
kin  see  a  hull  lot  better  if  yer  eyes  air  clost  ter  th' 
ground,  lookin'  agin'  th'  horizon.  Don't  git  narvous,  an' 
don't  throw  th'  camp  inter  a  scare  about  nothin'." 

An  hour  later  an  owl  hooted  very  close  to  Dr.  Whiting 
and  he  sprang  to  his  feet.  As  he  did  so  he  heard  the 
remarkably  well  imitated  twang  of  a  bow-string,  and  his 
imagination  supplied  his  own  interpretation  to  the  sound 
passing  his  ear.  Before  he  could  collect  his  panic- 
stricken  senses  he  was  seized  from  behind  and  a  moment 
later,  bound  with  rawhide  and  gagged  with  buckskin. 


1 68  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

he  lay  on  his  back.  A  rough  hand  seized  his  hair  at 
the  same  instant  that  something  cold  touched  his  scalp. 
At  that  moment  his  attacker  sneezed,  and  a  rough,  tense 
voice  growled  a  challenge  from  the  darkness  behind  him. 

"Who's  thar?"  called  Tom  Boyd,  the  clicking  of  his 
rifle  hammers  sharp  and  ominous. 

The  hand  clutching  the  doctor's  hair  released  it  and 
the  action  was  followed  by  a  soft  and  hurried  movement 
through  the  woods. 

"Who's  thar?"  came  the  low  growl  again,  as  Tom 
crept  into  the  bound  man's  range  of  vision  and  peered 
into  the  blackness  of  the  woods.  Waiting  a  moment, 
the  plainsman  muttered  something  about  being  mistaken, 
and  departed  silently. 

After  an  agony  of  suspense,  the  bound  man  heard  the 
approach  of  another  figure,  and  soon  the  corporal  of  his 
guard  stopped  near  him  and  swore  venge  fully  under  his 
breath  as  his  soft  query  brought  no  answer. 

"Cuss  him,"  growled  Ogden,  angrily.  "He's  snuk 
back  ter  camp.  I'll  peg  his  pelt  out  ter  dry,  come  day- 
light." He  moved  forward  to  continue  his  round  of 
inspection  and  stumbled  over  the  doctor's  prostrate  form. 
In  a  flash  the  corporal's  knife  was  at  the  doctor's  throat. 
"Who  air  ye?"  he  demanded  fiercely  The  throaty, 
jumbled  growls  and  gurgles  which  answered  him  ap- 
prised him  of  the  situation,  and  he  lost  no  time  in 
removing  the  gag  and  cutting  the  thongs  which  bound 
the  sentry.  "Thar,  now,"  he  said  in  a  whisper.  "Tell 
me  about  it." 

The  doctor's  account  was  vivid  and  earnest  and  one  of 
his  hands  was  pressed  convulsively  against  his  scalp  as 
if  he  feared  it  would  leave  him. 


INDIAN  COUNTRY  169 

Ogden  heard  him  through  patiently,  grunting  affirma- 
tively from  time  to  time.  "Jest  what  I  told  th*  boys," 
he  commented.  "  Wall,  I  reckon  they  war  scared  away. 
Couldn't  'a'  been  many,  or  they'd  'a'  rushed  us.  It 
war  a  scatterin'  bunch  o'  bucks,  lookin'  fer  a  easy  sculp, 
or  a  chanct  ter  stampede  th'  animals.  Thievin'  Pawnees, 
I  reckon.  Mebby  they'll  come  back  ag'in:  we'll  wait 
right  hyar  fer  'em,  dang  thar  eyes." 

"  Ain't  you  going  to  alarm  the  camp  ?  "  incredulously 
demanded  the  doctor,  having  hard  work  to  keep  his 
teeth  from  chattering. 

"What  in  tarnation  fer?  Jest  'cause  a  couple  o' 
young  bucks  nigh  got  yer  h'ar?  Hell,  no;  we'll  wait 
right  hyar  an'  git  'em  if  they  come  back." 

"Do  you  think  they  will?"  asked  the  doctor,  trying 
to  sound  fierce  and  eager. 

"Can't  never  tell  what  a  Injun'll  do.  They  left  ye 
tied  up;  an'  mebby  want  yer  h'ar  plumb  bad.  Reckon 
mebby  I  ought  ter  go  'round  an'  warn  th'  rest  o'  th'  boys 
ter  keep  thar  eyes  peeled  an'  look  sharp  fer  'em ;  'specially 
them  nigh  th'  animals.  Bet  ye  stood  up  when  ye  heard 
em.'^ 

"Yes,  I  did;  but  I'll  never  do  it  again!" 

"  Thought  so.  Now  you  lay  low  out  hyar  till  I  tells  th' 
others.  Be  back  soon,"  and  before  any  reply  could  be 
made  the  corporal  had  become  swallowed  up  in  the  night. 
The  weather  was  not  warm,  yet  Doctor  Whiting  sweat 
copiously,  and  after  he  had  been  relieved  and  sent  back 
to  the  encampment  he  had  great  trouble  in  falling 
asleep. 

Hank  Marshall  slipped  up  behind  Jim  Ogden  as  that 
person  came  in,  and  imitated  the  significant  twang.    Jim 


170  -BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

jumped  a  foot  in  the  air  and  then  bent  over,  convulsed 
with  silent  laughter. 

"  Dang  ye,  Hank ;  I  don't  know  how  ye  do  it ! "  he 
exclaimed.  "  I  never  heard  th'  like.  Thar'll  be  one  bunch 
o'  greenhorns  lyin'  flat,  an'  all  eyes  an'  ears  from  now  on. 
I  war  weak  from  laughin'  afore  I  went  out  to  stumble 
over  him.  When  th'  guard  war  changed  they  couldn't 
hardly  find  him,  he  war  spread  out  so  flat.  Jest  like  a 
new  born  buffaler  calf  that  its  maw  has  cached  in  a 
bunch  o'  grass.  Bet  ye  could  fool  an  Injun  with  that 
thar  twang." 

"  I've  did  it,"  said  Hank,  chuckling. 

The  next  morning  Dr.  Whiting  was  quite  a  hero,  and 
as  the  caravan  left  the  creek  he  rode  by  the  side  of 
Patience,  talking  until  he  had  thoroughly  exhausted  the 
subject.  After  he  had  left  her  to  go  helter-skeltering 
over  the  prairie  a  mile  ahead  in  eager  and  hopeful  search 
of  buffalo.  Hank  Marshall  rode  up  to  the  wagon  and  took 
his  place. 

He  listened  to  Patience's  excited  comment  about  the 
doctor's  narrow  escape,  and  then,  picking  up  the  reins, 
twanged  sharply,  winked  at  her,  and  rode  off  to  the  flank- 
ing line.  She  stared  after  him  for  a  moment  and  then 
stuffed  her  handkerchief  into  her  mouth.  When  she  had 
command  over  herself  again  she  turned  indignantly 
toward  her  chuckling  uncle. 

"  Just  the  same,  it  was  a  mean  trick ! "  she  declared. 

"  Giddap,"  said  Uncle  Joe,  and  chuckled  all  the  more. 

"But  it  was!" 

"  It  learned  'em  all  a  lesson,"  he  replied.  "  May  save 
their  fool  lives,  and  ours,  too.    Giddap!  " 

It  was  a  long  haul  to  Turkey  Creek,  but  the  caravan 


INDIAN  COUNTRY  171 

made  it  and  was  corralled  before  dark.  Buffalo  signs 
had  been  seen  shortly  before  the  creek  was  reached,  and 
when  old  Indian  signs  were  found  near  the  camp  site, 
the  day's  excitement  took  on  new  life.  A  broken  lodge- 
pole,  some  odds  and  ends  of  tanned  hides  and  a  discarded 
moccasin,  somehow  overlooked  by  the  Indians*  dogs, 
were  discovered  near  the  blackened  spots  on  the  prairie 
where  camp-fires  had  burned.  The  night  passed  quietly, 
every  sentry  flat  against  the  earth  and  trying  to  rob  the 
senses  of  smell  and  touch  to  enrich  those  of  sight  and 
hearing. 

In  leaving  the  creek,  the  two  column  formation  was 
abandoned  and  the  wagons  rolled  up  the  little  divide  in 
four  evenly  spaced  divisions.  There  was  some  semblance 
of  flankers  and  a  rear  guard  now,  and  even  the  cannons 
were  not  forsaken.    Then  came  the  great  moment. 

Two  hours  after  the  creek  had  been  left  the  first  herd 
of  buffalo  was  sighted.  That  it  was  a  small  one  and 
more  likely  to  provide  tough  bull  rather  than  fat  cow, 
made  no  difference;  rear  guard,  flankers,  and  cannon 
were  forgotten  in  one  mad,  frantic,  and  ridiculous  rush. 
Men  dashed  off  toward  the  herd  without  even  their 
pistols.  In  ten  minutes  a  moderate  sized  war-party 
could  have  swept  down  on  the  caravan  and  had  things 
nearly  their  own  way.  There  would  have  been  no  buffalo 
meat  in  camp  that  night  except  that  the  experienced 
hunters  with  the  advance  guard  managed  to  down  two 
cows  and  three  bulls  before  the  yelling,  excitement-mad- 
dened crowd  stampeded  the  little  herd  and  drove  it  all 
over  the  prairie. 

One  tenderfoot,  better  mounted  than  his  fellows,  man- 
aged to  keep  up  with  a  running  bull,  firing  ball  after  ball 


172  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

into  it  as  xast  as  he  could  re-load.  He  was  learning  that 
a  bull-buffalo  was  a  hard  animal  to  kill,  and  when,  it 
finally  wheeled  and  charged  him,  he  also  learned  that  it 
was  willing  to  fight  when  goaded  and  made  desperate 
with  wounds.  Another  greenhorn,  to  get  better  aim, 
dismounted  and  knelt  on  the  earth.  With  the  roar  of 
his  gun  his  horse,  with  all  its  trappings,  gave  one  snort 
and  ran  away,  joining  the  herd  and  running  with  it.  It 
was  an  hour  before  anyone  had  time  to  listen  to  his 
entreaties,  and  then  it  was  too  late  to  go  after  the  run- 
away animal.  He  hoofed  it  back  to  the  caravan,  an 
angry  but  wiser  man,  and  was  promptly  robbed  by  the 
man  from  whom  he  bought  a  horse. 

It  was  an  open  question  whether  buffalo  tongue  or 
beaver  tail  was  the  better  eating,  but  no  one  in  the 
caravan  had  any  fault  to  find  with  the  portions  of  buffalo 
meat  which  fell  to  their  lot.  Despite  the  toughness  and 
tastelessness  of  the  old  bull  meat,  it  was  the  first  fresh 
meat  they  had  enjoyed  since  leaving  Independence,  with 
the  exception  of  the  few  who  had  shared  in  Hank's 
antelope,  and  its  poor  qualities  were  overlooked.  No  one 
had  a  chance  to  gorge  himself  and  to  learn  that  over- 
eating of  buffalo  flesh  causes  no  distress.  They  found  the 
meat  with  the  fat  and  lean  more  intermixed,  juicier,  and 
of  a  coarser  grain  than  beef.  The  choice  bits  were  from 
the  tongue,  the  udder  came  next  in  merit,  followed  by 
the  hump-ribs,  tenderloins,  and  marrow  bones.  They 
were  fortunate  in  the  selection  of  the  bulls  which  had 
been  killed,  for  they  were  quite  fat  and  in  this  condition 
ran  the  cow  meat  a  close  race ;  all  but  one  old  bull,  which 
was  tough  and  stringy  beyond  belief.  Despite  the  fact 
that  the  next  camp  spot  was  not  very  far  ahead,  the 


INDIAN  COUNTRY  173 

caravan  nooned  on  the  open  prairie  for  the  cooking  of 
the  fresh  meat. 

The  captain  signalled  for  the  four-square  corral  and 
the  evolution  was  creditably  performed.  The  animals 
were  unhitched  and  staked  outside  the  enclosure  and 
soon  many  fires  were  burning  around  the  encampment 
and  the  savory  odors  of  broiling  buffalo  meat  arose  on 
all  sides.  Coffee  pots  steeped  or  boiled  at  every  fire,  for 
coffee  was  the  one  unstinted  drink  of  the  caravan.  It 
was  not  long  before  the  encampment  was  surroimded  by 
groups  seated  around  the  fires,  most  of  the  men  eating 
with  their  fingers,  Indian  fashion,  and  from  the  universal 
satisfaction  shown  it  was  evident  that  buffalo  meat  had 
been  given  a  high  place  by  every  palate.  In  contrast  to 
a  steady  diet  of  bacon  it  was  a  feast  fit  for  epicures. 
The  travelers  cared  little  about  their  good  fortune  in 
finding  cows  with  the  first  small  herd,  instead  of  the 
usual  vanguard  or  outpost  of  bulls,  for  the  cows  had 
been  there  and  they  had  obtained  two  of  them.  Two 
hours  later  the  caravan  was  moving  again,  and  late  that 
afternoon  reached  the  Little  Arkansas,  where  the  first 
trouble  with  a  treacherous  river  bed  was  experienced. 

Knowing  what  was  in  store  for  them,  the  captain  and 
his  lieutenants  went  ahead  with  a  force  of  workers  to 
cut  a  way  through  the  steep  banks  and  to  bridge  the 
muddy  bed.  They  found  that  the  banks  had  been  cut 
by  the  preceding  caravan,  but  the  causeway  by  now  was 
useless,  except  as  a  foundation  for  a  new  one.  The 
stream  was  not  very  wide,  but  made  up  for  that  by  the 
meanness  of  its  bottom.  The  trees  and  brush  along  the 
banks  provided  material  for  the  temporary  causeway 
and  it  did  not  take  long  to  build  up  a  "bridge." 


174  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

The  more  or  less  easy-going  manner  of  the  captain 
changed  here  and  his  commands  had  a  snap  to  them  that 
should  have  given  them  an  unquestioned  weight.  Be- 
cause of  the  restricted  space  chosen  for  the  camp,  the 
circular  corral  was  formed,  and  as  the  divisions  reached 
and  crossed  the  causeway  they  fell  in  behind  the  last 
wagon  of  the  one  ahead  and  crawled  around  until  the 
circle  was  complete  and  compact.  All  animals  were  to 
be  staked  outside  the  circle  until  twilight  and  then  driven 
inside  and  hobbled  for  the  night.  Care  was  taken  to  see 
that  there  were  but  few  gaps  between  the  wagons  and 
that  those  were  securely  closed  by  chains. 

The  length  of  the  first  tour  of  guard  duty  was  in- 
creased considerably,  for  the  first  watch  went  on  as  soon 
as  the  wagons  stopped.  They  were  getting  fairly  into 
the  Indian  country  now.  Directly  north  of  them  lay  the 
range  of  the  Pawnees;  to  the  west  of  that  the  home  of 
the  Cheyennes;  directly  west  of  the  Little  Arkansas 
roamed  the  Arapahoes,  and  to  the  southwest  were  the 
Kiowas  and  Comanches,  both  of  the  latter  superb  caval- 
rymen. The  last  three  tribes  were  being  stirred  by 
jealous  New  Mexicans  to  harass  the  caravans.  And  the 
interest  of  all  these  tribes,  and  of  others  beyond  them 
in  several  directions,  was  centered  on  the  prairie  between 
the  Little  Arkansas  and  the  valley  of  the  Arkansas, 
eastward  from  where  the  latter  river  left  the  mountains. 
This  was  the  great  range  of  the  buffalo,  and  the  buffalo 
was  food,  clothing,  habitation,  and  figured  very  largely 
in  other  necessaries  of  the  savage  tribes. 

The  peculiar,  curving,  and  ever-shifting  migration  of 
the  great  herds  was  followed  by  hunting  parties,  which 
became  war-parties  in  a  wink.     Many  were  the  bloody 


INDIAN  COUNTRY  175 

battles  fought  between  the  tribes  on  that  stretch  of 
prairie  between  the  Little  Arkansas  and  the  two  Coon 
Creeks.  The  Pawnees  claimed  sovereignty  over  that 
part  of  the  country  around  Pawnee  Rock,  but  it  was  one 
that  the  tribe  did  not  dare  to  enjoy  with  any  degree  of 
permanence.  Raiding  parties  from  the  south,  west,  and 
north  constantly  challenged  their  'title,  and  because  of 
these  collisions  hardly  a  hunting  party  dared  show  itself 
unless  in  strength.  There  were,  it  is  true,  small  bands 
roaming  the  plains,  especially  after  dark,  which  traveled 
on  foot;  but  these  were  out  with  the  avowed  and  set 
purpose  of  stealing  horses,  on  which,  if  successful,  they 
made  their  escape  and  rode  home.  This  especially  was 
a  Pawnee  trick,  and  especially  adept  were  the  Pawnees 
in  creeping  up  to  a  herd  of  draft  animals  and  stampeding 
the  whole  bunch.  More  than  one  party  of  traders  had 
thus  been  left  afoot  in  mid-prairie  and  forced  to  abandon 
what  they  could  not  carry  on  their  backs.  While  the 
Pawnee  country  was  supposed  to  be  north  of  the  Platte, 
up  around  the  Loup  Fork,  they  often  raided  in  force 
well  into  the  Comanche  and  Apache  country  and  were 
as  much  at  home  on  the  south  side  of  the  Arkansas  River 
as  on  any  other  part  of  the  plains. 

When  the  orders  came  to  drive  the  animals  inside  the 
corral  and  hobble  them,  there  was  a  great  deal  of  com- 
plaint. It  was  contended  that  they  could  not  get  food 
enough  in  such  a  restricted  space,  crowded  as  it  w^ould 
be  with  horses,  oxen,  and  mules;  that  they  would  injure 
each  other ;  that  there  would  be  great  trouble  in  each  man 
getting  his  own  in  the  morning;  that  they  would  burst 
through  some  weak  spot  and  wander  away  during  the 
night.     To  all  these   objections   the   captain   remained 


176  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

obdurate.  Any  man  who  left  his  animals  outside  the  cor- 
ral and  lost  them  would  not  be  given  replacements  at  the 
expense  of  other  teams,  and  could  make  what  shift  he 
thought  best  for  the  transportation  of  his  merchandise. 

Tom  and  his  trapper  friends,  with  some  of  the  more 
experienced  traders,  went  among  the  grumblers  and  la- 
bored with  them,  preaching  that  from  now  on  the  utmost, 
unremitting  vigilance  would  be  necessary  day  and  night, 
for  the  danger  of  losing  the  animals  would  grow  with 
every  mile  and  would  not  cease  until  the  Mexican  settle- 
ments were  nearly  in  sight.  And  the  worse  the  weather 
was,  the  greater  would  be  the  need  to  be  alert ;  for  with 
tumultuous  Nature  to  arouse  the  excitability  of  the  ani- 
mals and  to  mask  the  movements  of  the  Indians,  a  savage 
raid  would  scarcely  fail  to  cause  a  wholesale  stampede 
unless  the  strictest  watch  was  maintained.  To  make  up 
for  the  poor  grazing  inside  the  corralled  wagons,  the 
picketing  outside  the  circle  in  the  eyening  would  be  sup- 
plemented by  more  grazing  on  the  outside  before  leaving 
in  the  morning.  This  would  necessitate  later  starts,  but 
it  could  not  be  avoided. 

Tom  and  Hank  were  not  quite  through  eating  their 
evening  meal  when  Pedro  paid  them  a  visit. 

"  Ah,  senores,"  he  beamed,  *'  I  haf  laughed  thees  day ! 
Just  like  my  Mexico  eet  was  to  see  thee  atejo  that  you 
haf !  Thee  mulera  weeth  her  seven  childr-ren  mar-rching 
behind  her  like  soldats! "  He  leaned  back  and  laughed 
heartily,  his  teeth  gleaming  like  old  ivory. 

Hank  grinned  and  glanced  at  Tom.  "If  she'd  only 
lead  'em  'round  th'  customs  we'd  think  a  hull  lot  more 
o'  her.  It  riles  me  ter  have  ter  pay  ter  git  our  goods 
inter  a  town  arter  such  hard  work  gittin'  'em  to  it." 


INDIAN  COUNTRY  177 

"  Ah,"  replied  Pedro,  smiling  broadly.  **  That  ees  thee 
law,"  he  reproved  them.  "  But  I  deed  not  know  you 
were  going  to  Santa  Fe,  sefiores.  Eet  was  said  some- 
where, by  somebody,  I  do  not  remember  who,  that  you 
were  going  to  thee  Senor  Bent  on  thee  Arkansas.  To 
hunt  and  to  tr-rap,  was  eet  not  ?  " 

Tom  emptied  his  pipe  and  blew  through  the  stem. 
"No,"  he  said.  "We're  goin'  ter  Santa  Fe.  After  we 
sell  th'  goods  we  aim  ter  go  up  ter  Bent's  for  th'  fall  an' 
winter  huntin'  an'  trappin'.  Takes  a  lot  o'  money  ter 
outfit  two  men  th'  way  they  should  be,  fer  a  hull  season 
in  the  mountains."  He  grinned.  "That's  why  we're 
packin'  goods  ter  Santa  Fe.  Got  to  raise  some  money." 
Arising  he  nodded  to  his  guest.  "  Now,  if  ye'U  excuse 
me,  friend,  I'll  leave  ye  with  Hank.  See  ye  later, 
mebby?" 

Pedro  nodded  and  laughed  heartily,  wagging  an  ac- 
cusing finger  at  the  young  plainsman.  "  Ah,  what  should 
keep  a  br-rave  cahallero  from  sooch  a  sefiorita!  Pedro 
has  eyes,  senor;  an'  Pedro,  he  weesh  you  ver'  miicho 
luck.  He  weesh  you  so  ver'  miicho  luck  that  per-rhaps  he 
can  get  you  past  those  customs.  Of  thees  we  weel  talk 
more,  eh?" 

Hank  slapped  his  leg  and  pushed  his  plug  of  tobacco 
into  the  visitor's  hands.  "  Smoke  some  of  that  thar 
Virginny,  friend,"  he  urged.  "  Ye'll  find  it  some  better 
than  that  thar  husk,  or  wilier  bark  you  people  smoke." 
He  looked  at  his  partner  and  chuckled.  "These  hyar 
young  fellers,  now;  thar  jest  ain't  no  holdin'  'em." 

Pedro  thought  that  this  particular  young  "  feller  "  was 
going  to  be  held  very  securely  before  he  saw  Santa  Fe, 
but  he  grinned  and  waved  his  hand,  and  after  Tom  had 


178  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

disappeared  among  the  wagons  he  turned  toward  the 
hunter. 

"Has  Seiior  Boyd  ever  been  een  our  Santa  Fe?"  he 
asked  in  polite  curiosity. 

Hank  nodded  carelessly.  "He  war  thar  some  years 
back." 

"Perhaps  then  I  can  show  heem  a  new  way  to  thee 
city,"  said  Pedro,  significantly.  "  One  that  my  br-rother 
knows  ver'  good.  Thee  knowledge  of  thees  tr-rail  ees 
of  mucho  less  cost  than  thee  customs  that  you  an'  me  like 
so  leetle.  But  of  thees  we  weel  talk  more  some  other 
time.    I  must  leeve  you,  senor.    Adios." 

"Adios,  sefior,"  beamed  Hank,  again  offering  the 
plug. 

After  a  quiet  night  and  a  somewhat  later  start  than 
usual,  the  day's  run  to  Cow  Creek  began,  and  not  five 
miles  from  the  camp  site  a  sizable  herd  of  buffalo  was 
sighted.  The  same  thing  took  place  again,  the  same  con- 
fusion, the  same  senseless  chasing  without  weapons,  but 
this  time  there  was  added  the  total  abandonment  of  sev- 
eral wagons  while  the  drivers,  unhitching  one  animal, 
grabbed  guns  and  joined  in  the  attack,  not  realizing  that 
mules  hardly  were  suited  for  chasing  an  animal  which, 
clumsy  as  it  appeared,  nearly  equalled  a  horse  in  speed 
when  once  started  on  its  awkward  gallop.  But  in  the 
results  of  the  chase  there  was  one  noticeable  difference 
between  this  and  the  previous  hunt,  for  the  green  nim- 
rods  had  asked  questions  of  the  hunters  since  their  first 
try  at  the  prairie  cattle,  and  they  had  cherished  the  an- 
swers. They  no  longer  fired  blindly,  after  the  first  flush 
of  their  excitement  died  down,  for  now  they  ranged  up 
alongside  their  lumbering  victims    from   the    rear   and 


INDIAN  COUNTRY 179 

aimed  a  little  behind  the  short  ribs,  or  a  few  inches  above 
the  brisket  and  behind  the  shoulder.  And  this  hunt  was 
a  great  success  from  the  standpoint  of  the  plainsmen  who 
had  bought  Colt's  new-fangled  repeating  pistols,  for  they 
proved  their  deadliness  in  such  capable  hands,  and 
speeded  up  the  kill. 

A  group  of  tender  feet  watched  an  old  hunter  butcher 
a  fat  cow  in  almost  the  time  it  takes  to  tell  of  it,  slitting 
the  skin  along  the  spine  from  the  shoulder  to  the  tail, 
and  down  in  front  of  the  shoulder  and  around  the  neck. 
He  removed  it  as  far  down  as  the  brisket  and  laid  the 
freed  skin  on  the  ground  to  receive  the  fleece  from  along 
the  spine,  the  protruding  hump  ribs,  which  he  severed 
with  a  tomahawk;  and  then  he  added  the  liver,  tongue, 
kidneys,  certain  parts  of  the  intestine,  and  one  shoulder. 
Severing  the  other  shoulder  and  cutting  the  skin  free  on 
both  sides  of  the  body,  he  bundled  up  the  choice  cuts  in 
it,  carried  it  to  his  horse  and  returned  to  camp.  In  a 
few  moments  the  butchering  became  general,  and  soon  the 
triumphant  hunters  returned  to  the  wagons  with  fresh 
meat  enough  to  provide  an  unstinted  feast  for  the  entire 
caravan. 

The  journey  was  resumed  and  the  twenty  miles  to  Cow 
Creek  was  made  in  good  time.  Here  the  difficulties  of 
the  Little  Arkansas  were  again  met  and  conquered  and 
the  wagons  corralled  before  dark. 

It  was  at  this  camp  that  Tom  and  Hank  became  certain 
that  they  were  being  spied  upon  by  Pedro  and  his  com- 
panions. Seated  around  their  fire,  smoking  with  deep 
content  after  a  heavy  meal  of  fresh  buffalo  meat,  Hank 
began  to  push  his  foot  back  and  forth  on  the  ground, 
making  deeper  and  deeper,  longer  and  longer,  the  groove 


i8o ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'* 

his  moccasin  heel  was  slowly  wearing  in  the  soft  earth. 
Finally  his  foot  touched  his  companion's  knee  but,  with- 
out pausing,  kept  wearing  down  the  groove. 

"  Th'  geese  went  over  early  this  year,"  he  said,  looking 
up  at  the  starry  sky.  "  Reckon  we'll  have  th'  hot  weather 
a  leetle  ahead  o'  time  on  th'  Dry  Route." 

Tom  did  not  change  a  muscle  as  the  familiar,  warning 
sentence  struck  his  ears.  ''Yes,"  he  replied.  "Be  glad 
when  I  gits  inter  Santa  Fe,  with  th'  cool  mountains  all 
around.  Reckon  you'll  spend  most  o'  your  time  playin' 
monte,  an*  be  clean  busted  when  it's  time  ter  hit  th'  trail 
fer  Bent's." 

Hank  laughed  softly.  "  Did  I  hear  ye  say  Jim  Ogden 
had  some  good  likker  ?  "  he  asked. 

"That's  what  I  said." 

"  'Tain't  none  o'  that  thar  Taos  lightnin'  ?  "  skeptically 
inquired  Hank. 

"  How  could  it  be,  him  jest  a-comin'  from  Missouri  ?  " 

"  Wall,"  chuckled  Hank,  slowly  rising.  "  Reckon  I'll 
wander  over  an'  see  fer  myself.  Jim  must  be  consider- 
able lonesome,  'bout  now." 

"  Must  be,  with  only  Zeb,  Alonzo,  Enoch,  and  a  passel 
o'  them  fool  tenderfeet  a-settin'  'round  his  fire,"  snorted 
Tom.  "Go  ahead  an'  git  yer  likker;  I'll  wait  fer  ye 
hyar." 

It  was  only  a  few  minutes  later  when  Hank  returned, 
shaking  his  head.  "All  gone,"  he  mourned,  and  sat 
down  again,  regarding  the  dying  embers.  "  Jest  my  luck." 

Tom  laughed.  "  Yer  better  off  without  it,"  he  replied, 
and  communed  with  his  thoughts. 

Minutes  passed  in  reflective  silence  and  then  Jim  Ogden 
loomed  up  beside  them.     "Come  on  over,"  he  invited. 


INDIAN  COUNTRY 181 

grinning.  "Thar  warn't  no  use  showin'  a  bottle  with 
them  thirsty  greenhorns  settin'  'round  ter  lick  it  up. 
Now  that  thar  gone,  we'll  pass  it  'round." 

Hank  looked  knowingly  at  his  partner  as  he  hastily 
arose,  and  the  three  went  off  together.  When  half  way 
to  the  other  fire  Jim  spoke  in  a  low  voice. 

"  He  war  thar.  Hank ;  layin'  in  that  little  gully,  watch- 
in'  ye  like  ye  war  pizen."  He  turned  to  Tom.  "  Shall  we 
go  an'  drag  him  out  ?  " 

"  No,"  answered  Tom.  "  Let  him  think  we  don't  know 
nothin'  about  it.  Him  an'  his  trail  inter  Santa  Fe! 
Reckons  mebby  that  if  them  barefoot  soldiers  try  ter  take 
us  in  front  o'  th'  caravan  they'll  get  a  good  lickin' ;  but 
if  he  can  coax  us  off  from  th'  rest,  he  kin  run  us  inter 
an  ambush.  If  thar's  airy  way  inter  Santa  Fe  that  we 
don't  know,  I'm  danged  if  he  knows  it !  Let  hini  spy  on 
us,  now  that  we  know  he's  doin'  it.    Thankee,  Jim." 

By  the  time  they  had  reached  Jim's  little  fire  a  figure 
was  wriggling  down  the  gully,  and  at  an  opportune  time 
arose  to  hands  and  knees  and  scurried  to  the  shelter  of 
Franklin's  wagons,  a  smile  on  its  face.  Now  it  was  cer- 
tain that  Tom  Boyd  was  going  through  to  Santa  Fe,  and 
all  would  be  well.  He  chuckled  as  he  recalled  what  he 
had  said  about  the  Mexican  troops  not  meeting  the  cara- 
van until  Point  of  Rocks  was  reached;  they  would  meet 
the  train  at  any  point  his  messenger  told  them  to. 

At  Cow  Creek  another  quiet  night  was  followed  by 
another  delayed  start  and  shortly  after  noon  the  van- 
guard raised  a  shout  of  elation,  which  sent  every  mounted 
man  racing  ahead;  and  the  sight  repaid  them  for  their 
haste. 

Under  their  eyes  lay  the  Arkansas  River,  dotted  with 


i82  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

green  islands,  its  channel  four  or  five  hundred  yards 
wide,  and  so  shallow  that  at  normal  stage  it  was  formid- 
able at  many  points.  While  its  low,  barren  banks,  only 
occasionally  tinted  with  the  green  of  cottonwoods,  were 
desolate  in  appearance,  they  had  a  beauty  peculiar  and 
striking.  As  far  as  the  eye  could  see  spread  the  sand- 
hills and  hillocks,  like  waves  of  some  pale  sea,  here  white 
and  there  yellow,  accordingly  as  to  how  the  light  was 
reflected  from  them.  Its  appearance  had  been  abrupt,  the 
prairie  floor  rising  slightly  to  the  crumbling  edge,  below 
which  and  at  some  distance  flowed  the  river,  here  form- 
ing the  international  boundary  between  Texas  and  the 
United  States.  While  territorially  Texas  lay  across  the 
river,  according  to  Texan  claims,  actually,  so  far  as 
supervision  was  concerned,  it  was  Mexico,  for  the  Texan 
arm  was  yet  too  short  to  dominate  it  and  the  ordinary 
traveler  let  it  keep  its  original  name. 

While  its  northern  bank  was  almost  destitute  of  timber, 
the  southern  one  showed  scattered  clumps  of  cottonwood, 
protected  from  the  devastating  prairie  fires  from  the 
North  not  only  by  the  river  itself,  but  also  by  the  barren 
stretch  of  sand,  over  which  the  fires  died  from  starvation. 
To  the  right  of  the  caravan  lay  the  grassy,  green  rolls 
of  the  prairie,  to  an  imaginative  eye  resembling  the  long 
swells  of  some  great  sea;  on  the  left  a  ribbon  of  pale 
tints,  from  gleaming  whites  to  light  golds  which  varied 
with  the  depths  of  the  water  and  the  height  and  position 
of  the  sun.  Massive  sand  dunes,  glittering  in  the  sun- 
light made  a  rampart  which  stretched  for  miles  up  and 
down  the  river  and  struck  the  eye  with  the  actinic  power 
of  pure,  drifted  snow.  Here  the  nature  of  the  prairie 
changed,  losing  its  rich,  luxuriant  verdure,  for  here  the 


INDIAN  COUNTRY  183 

short  buffalo  grass  began  to  dominate  to  a  noticeable 
extent. 

The  excitement  spread.  Eager  couriers  raced  back  to 
the  plodding  caravan  to  tell  the  news.  Some  of  the  more 
impressionable  forthwith  rode  toward  the  river,  only  a 
few  yards  away,  hot  to  be  the  first  to  splash  in  its  waters ; 
but  they  found  that  prairie  air  was  deceptive  and  that 
the  journey  over  the  rolling  hillocks  was  a  great  deal 
longer  than  they  had  thought.  But  a  few  miles  meant 
nothing  to  them  and  they  pushed  on,  careless  of 
Comanche,  Kiowa,  or  Pawnee  Picts,  some  with  their  guns 
empty  from  the  salute  they  had  fired  at  sight  of  the 
stream.  The  caravan  kept  stolidly  on,  following  a  course 
i  ughly  paralleling  the  river  and  not  stopping  until 
evening  found  it  on  the  far  side  of  Walnut  Creek  after 
they  had  crossed  a  belt  of  such  poor  grass  that  they  had 
grave  doubts  about  the  pasturage  at  the  encampment; 
and  the  flinty,  uncompromising  nature  of  the  ground 
down  the  slope  of  the  little  divide,  in  which  seemingly 
for  eternity  was  graven  the  strands  of  the  mighty  trail, 
seemed  to  justify  their  fears.  But  then,  while  they  were 
worrying  the  most,  the  grass  improved  and  when  they 
had  crossed  the  creek  not  far  from  its  mouth  they  found 
themselves  in  a  little,  timber-fringed  valley  thick  w^ith 
tall  grass.  And  they  now  had  entered  one  of  the  great 
danger  spots  of  the  long  trail. 

Hank  Marshall  got  his  fire  started  in  a  hurry  while 
his  partner  looked  after  the  pack  mules ;  and  when  Tom 
came  back  to  attend  to  the  fire  and  prepare  the  supper, 
Hank  dug  into  his  "possible"  sack  and  produced  some 
line  and  a  fish  hook.  Making  a  paste  of  flour,  he  mixed 
it  with  some  dried  moss  he  had  put  away  and  saved  for 


i84  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

this  use.  Rolling  the  little  doughballs  and  hardening 
them  over  the  fire  he  soon  strode  off  up  the  creek,  looking 
wise  but  saying  nothing;  and  a  quarter  of  an  hour  later 
he  returned  with  three  big  catfish,  one  of  which  he  ate 
after  he  had  consumed  a  generous  portion  of  buffalo 
hump-ribs;  and  he  followed  the  fish  by  a  large  tongue 
raked  out  of  the  ashes  of  the  fire.  To  judge  from  his 
expression  he  had  enjoyed  a  successful  and  highly  grati- 
fying day,  and  since  he  was  heavy  and  drowsy  with  his 
gorging  and  had  to  go  on  watch  that  night,  he  rolled  up 
in  his  blanket  under  a  wagon  and  despite  the  noise  on 
all  sides  of  him,  fell  instantly  asleep.  He  had  "set 
hisself"  to  awaken  at  eleven  o'clock,  which  he 
would  do  almost  on  the  minute  and  be  thoroughly  wide 
awake. 

Fearing  for  the  alertness  of  the  sentries  that  night,  a 
number  of  plainsmen  and  older  traders  agreed  upon 
doing  duty  out  of  their  turns  and  followed  Hank's  exam- 
ple, "settin"'  themselves  to  awaken  at  different  hours; 
and  despite  these  precautions  had  a  band  of  Pawnees 
discovered  the  camp  that  night  they  most  certainly  would 
have  been  blessed  with  success;  and  no  one  understood 
why  the  camp  had  not  been  discovered,  for  the  crawling 
train  made  a  mark  on  the  prairie  that  could  not  be  missed 
by  savage  eyes  miles  away. 

Because  of  the  height  and  the  luxuriance  of  the  grass 
within  the  corral  the  morning  feeding,  beyond  the  time 
needed  for  getting  ready  to  leave,  was  dispensed  with 
and  the  train  got  off  to  an  early  start,  fairly  embarked 
on  the  eastern  part  of  the  great  buffalo  range  and  a  sec- 
tion of  the  trail  where  Indians  could  be  looked  for  in 
formidable  numbers. 


INDIAN  COUNTRY  185 

This  great  plain  fairly  was  crowded  with  bison  and 
was  dark  with  them  as  far  as  the  eye  could  see.  They 
could  be  numbered  by  the  tens  of  thousands  and  actually 
impeded  the  progress  of  the  caravan  and  threatened  con- 
stant danger  from  their  blind,  unreasoning  stampedes 
which  the  draft  animals  seemed  anxious  to  join.  Be- 
cause of  the  matted  hair  in  front  of  their  eyes  their  vision 
was  impaired;  and  the  keenness  of  their  scent  often 
hurled  them  into  dangers  which  a  clearer  eyesight  would 
have  avoided.  So  great  did  this  danger  become  shordy 
after  the  train  had  left  the  valley  of  the  Walnut  that 
the  rear  guard,  which  had  grown  slightly  as  the  days 
passed,  now  was  sent  out  to  protect  the  flanks  and  to 
strengthen  the  vanguard,  which  had  fallen  back  within 
a  few  hundred  feet  of  the  leading  wagons.  Time  after 
time  the  stupid  beasts  barely  were  kept  from  crashing 
blindly  into  the  train,  and  the  wagoners  had  the  most 
trying  and  tiring  day  of  the  whole  journey. 

Several  bands  of  Indians  at  times  were  seen  in  the 
distance  pursuing  their  fleeing  game,  but  all  were  appar- 
ently too  busy  to  bother  with  the  caravan,  which  they 
knew  would  stop  somewhere  for  the  night.  No  longer 
was  there  any  need  to  freight  buffalo  meat  to  the  wag- 
ons; for  so  many  of  the  animals  were  killed  directly 
ahead  that  the  wagoners  only  had  to  check  their  teams 
and  help  each  other  butcher  and  load.  This  constant 
stopping,  now  one  wagon  and  now  another,  threw  the 
train  out  of  all  semblance  of  order  and  it  wandered  along 
the  trail  with  its  divisions  mixed,  which  caused  the  sweat 
to  stand  out  on  the  worried  captain's  forehead.  His 
lieutenants  threatened  and  swore  and  pleaded  and  at 
last,  after  the  wagons  had  all  they  could  carry  of  the 


i86 ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

meat,  managed  to  get  four  passable  divisions  in  some- 
what presentable  order. 

While  the  caravan  shuffled  itself,  chased  buffalo  out  of 
the  way,  turned  aside  thundering  ranks  of  the  formid- 
able-looking beasts,  and  had  a  time  hectic  enough  to  suit 
the.most  irrational.  Pawnee  Rock  loomed  steadily  higher, 
steadily  nearer,  and  the  great  sand-hills  of  the  Arkansas 
stretched  interminably  into  the  West,  each  fantastic  top  a 
glare  of  dazzling  light. 

Well  to  the  North,  rising  by  degrees  out  of  the  prairie 
floor,  and  gradually  growing  higher  and  bolder  as  they 
neared  the  trail  and  the  river,  were  a  series  of  hills  which 
terminated  abruptly  in  a  rocky  cliff  frowning  down  upon 
the  rutted  wagon  road.  From  the  distance  the  mirage 
magnified  the  ascending  hills  until  they  looked  like  some 
detached  mountain  range,  which  instead  of  growing 
higher  as  it  was  approached,  shrunk  instead.  It  was  a 
famous  landmark,  silent  witness  of  many  bloody  strug- 
gles, as  famous  on  this  trail  as  was  Chimney  Rock  and 
Courthouse  Rock  along  the  great  emigrant  trail  going  up 
the  Platte;  but  compared  to  them  in  height  it  was  a 
dwarf.  Here  was  a  lofty  perch  from  which  the  eagle 
eyes  of  Indian  sentries  could  descry  crawling  caravans 
and  pack  trains,  in  either  direction,  hours  before  they 
reached  the  shadow  of  the  rocky  pile;  and  from  where 
their  calling  smoke  signals  could  be  seen  for  miles 
around. 

Two  trails  passed  it,  one  east  and  west;  the  other, 
north  and  south.  The  former,  cut  deep,  honest  in  its 
purpose  and  plainness,  here  crossed  the  latter,  which 
was  an  evanescent,  furtive  trail,  as  befits  a  pathway  to 
theft  and  bloodshed,  and  one  made  by  shadowy  raiders 


INDIAN  COUNTRY  187 

as  they  flitted  to  and  from  the  Kiowa-Comanche  country 
and  the  Pawnee-Cheyenne;  only  marked  at  intervals  by 
the  dragging  ends  of  the  lodgepoles  of  peacefully  mi- 
grating Indian  villages,  and  even  then  pregnant  with  dan- 
ger. Other  eyes  than  those  of  the  prairie  tribes  had 
looked  upon  it,  other  blood  had  been  spilled  there,  for 
distant  as  it  was  from  the  Apaches,  and  still  more  distant 
from  the  country  of  the  Utes,  war  parties  of  both  these 
tribes  had  accepted  the  gage  of  battle  there  flung  down. 
On  the  rugged  face  of  the  rock  itself  human  conceit  had 
graven  human  names,  and  to  be  precise  as  to  the  date  of 
their  foolishness,  had  added  day,  month,  and  year. 

While  speaking  of  days,  months,  and  years  it  may  not 
be  amiss  to  say  that  regarding  the  latter  division  of  time 
the  caravan  was  fortunate.  Troubles  between  Indians 
and  whites  developed  slowly  during  the  history  of  the 
Trail,  from  the  earlier  days  of  the  fur  trains  and  the  first 
of  the  traders'  caravans,  when  Indian  troubles  were 
hardly  more  than  an  occasional  attempted  theft,  in  many 
cases  successful,  but  seemingly  without  that  lust  for  blood 
on  both  sides  which  was  to  come  later.  After  the  wagon 
period  begun  there  was  a  slight  increase,  due  to  the  need 
which  certain  white  men  found  for  shooting  game.  If 
game  were  scarce,  what  could  be  more  interesting  when 
secure  from  retaliation  by  the  number  of  armed  and 
resolute  men  in  the  caravans,  than  to  pot-shoot  some 
curious  and  friendly  savage,  or  gallantly  put  to  flight  a 
handful  of  them?  The  ungrateful  savages  remembered 
these  pleasantries  and  were  prone  to  retaliate,  which 
caused  the  death  of  quite  a  few  honest  and  innocent 
whites  who  followed  later.  The  natural  cupidity  of  the 
Indian  for  horses,  his  standard  of  wealth,  received  a 


i88  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

secondary  urge,  which  later  became  the  principal  one, 
in  the  days  when  theft  was  regarded  as  a  material  re- 
ward for  killing.  While  they  may  have  grudged  these 
periodic  crossings  of  the  plains  as  a  trespass,  and  the 
wanton  slaughter  of  their  main  food  supply  as  a  con- 
stantly-growing calamity,  they  still  were  keener  to  steal 
quietly  and  get  away  without  bloodshed,  and  to  barter 
their  dried  meat,  their  dressed  hides,  their  beadwork,  and 
other  manufactures  of  their  busy  squaws  than  to  engage 
in  pitched  battle  at  sight.  Had  Captain  Woodson  led  a 
caravan  along  that  same  trail  twenty  or  thirty  years  later, 
he  would  have  had  good  reason  to  sweat  copiously  at 
the  sight  of  so  many  dashing  savages. 

The  captain  knew  the  Indian  of  his  day  as  well  as  a 
white  man  could.  He  knew  that  they  still  depended  upon 
trading  with  the  fur  companies,  with  free  trappers  and 
free  traders,  and  needed  the  white  man's  goods  and 
good  will;  they  wanted  his  trinkets,  his  tobacco  to  mix 
with  their  inner  bark  of  the  red  willow;  his  powder, 
muskets,  and  lead,  and,  most  of  all,  his  watered  alcohol. 
He  knew  that  a  white  man  could  stumble  into  the  average 
Indian  camp  and  receive  food  and  shelter,  especially 
among  those  tribes  not  yet  prostituted  by  contact  with 
the  frontier ;  that  such  a  man's  goods  would  be  safe  and, 
if  he  minded  his  own  business,  that  he  would  be  sent  on 
his  way  again  unharmed.  But  he  also  knew  their  lust  for 
horses  and  mules;  he  felt  their  slowly  growing  feeling 
of  contempt  for  men  who  would  trade  them  wonderful 
things  for  worthless  beaver,  mink,  and  otter  skins;  and 
a  fortune  in  trade  goods  for  the  pelt  of  a  >single  silver 
fox,  which  neither  was  warmer  nor  more  durable  than 
the  pelt  of  other  foxes.     And  he  knew  the  panicky  feel- 


INDIAN  COUNTRY  189 

ing  of  self-preservation  which  might  cause  some  green- 
horn of  the  caravan  to  shoot  true  at  the  wrong  time. 
So,  without  worrying  about  any  "deadly  circles"  or 
about  any  period  of  time  a  score  or  more  years  away, 
he  sweat  right  heartily.  And  when  at  last  he  drew  near 
to  Ash  Creek,  the  later  history  of  which  mercifully  was 
spared  him,  he  sighed  with  relief  but  worked  with  the 
energy  befitting  a  man  who  believed  that  God  helped 
those  who  helped  themselves;  he  hustled  the  caravan 
down  the  slope  and  across  the  stream  with  a  speed  not 
to  be  lightly  scorned  when  the  disorganized  arrangement 
of  the  train  is  considered ;  and  he  halted  the  divisions  in 
a  circular  formation  with  great  dispatch,  making  it  the 
most  compact  and  solid  wall  of  wagons  seen  so  far  on 
the  journey. 


CHAPTER  XII 

PAWNEES 

AT  THIS  Ash  Creek  camp  before  the  wagoners  had 
^  unhitched  their  teams  there  was  a  cordon  around 
the  corral  made  up  of  every  man  who  could  be  spared, 
and  the  cannon  crews  stood  silently  around  their  freshly 
primed  guns.  The  air  of  tenseness  and  expectancy 
pleased  Woodson,  for  it  was  an  assurance  that  there 
would  be  no  laxity  about  this  night's  watch.  With  the 
animals  staked  as  close  to  the  wagons  as  practicable, 
which  caused  some  encroachments  and  several  fist  fights 
between  jealous  wagoners,  the  fires  soon  were  cooking 
supper  for  squads  of  men  from  the  sentry  line;  and  as 
soon  as  all  had  eaten  and  the  camp  was  not  distracted  by 
too  many  duties,  the  cordon  thinned  until  it  was  composed 
of  a  double  watch.  Before  dusk  the  animals  were  driven 
inside,  secured  by  side-line  hobbles,  which  are  much  more 
efTective  than  hobbling  the  forelegs,  and  all  gaps  were 
closed  as  tightly  as  possible. 

The  evening  shadows  darkened  and  ran  into  blackness ; 
the  night  wind  crept  among  the  branches  of  the  thin  line 
of  trees  on  bath  banks  of  the  creek  and  made  soft  sough- 
ings  in  the  tall,  thick  grass ;  overhead  the  sky  first  dark- 
ened and  then  grew  lighter,  shot  with  myriads  of  stars, 
which  gleamed  as  only  prairie  stars  can ;  and  among  them, 
luminous  and  bright,  lay  the  Milky  Way.  The  creek 
murmured  in  musical  tones  as  it  fretted  at  some  slight 

150 


PAWNEES  191 


obstruction  and  all  nature  seemed  to  be  at  peace.  Then 
sounded  the  howl  of  a  buffalo  wolf,  the  gray  killer  of 
the  plains,  deep,  throaty,  full,  and  followed  by  a  quick 
slide  up  the  scale  with  a  ringing  note  that  the  bluffs  and 
mountains  love  to  toss  back  and  forth.  Yet  it  was  some- 
how different.  Woodson  and  his  trapper  aides,  seated 
together  against  a  wagon,  stirred  and  glanced  sidewise 
at  each  other.  Not  one  of  them  had  felt  the  reflex  an- 
swer of  his  spine  and  hair;  not  one  of  them  had  thrilled. 
A  simple  lack;  but  a  most  enlightening  one. 

Franklin  bit  into  a  plug  of  tobacco,  pushed  the  mouth- 
ful into  his  cheek  with  deft  tongue,  and  crossed  his  legs 
the  other  way.  "Hell!"  he  growled.  "Reckon  we're 
in  fer  it." 

"They  jest  can't  git  it  all  in,  kin  they?''  commented 
Zeb  Houghton,  coming  up. 

"  No,"  answered  Tom  Boyd.  "  They  leave  out  th'  best 
part  o'  it."  He  glanced  in  the  direction  of  the  nearest 
fringe  of  trees,  noisy  cottonwoods  all,  and  shook  his 
head.  "We  been  havin'  too  fine  a  stretch  o'  weather. 
Hear  them  trees  ?  In  two  hours  it'll  be  blowin'  hard ;  an' 
I  kin  feel  th'  rain  already." 

From  the  blackness  of  the  creek  there  arose  a  series 
of  short,  sharp  barks,  faster  and  faster,  higher  and 
higher,  the  lost-soul  howl  climbing  to  a  pitch  that  was 
sheer  torture  to  some  ears. 

"  Kiyote  sassin'  a  gray,"  chuckled  Zeb,  ironically. 

"  *  Upon  what  meat  hath  — ' "  began  Tom,  and  checked 
the  quotation.  "  He  oughter  be  tuckin'  his  tail  atween  his 
laigs  an'  streakin'  fer  th'  Platte;  or  mebby  he_  missed 
somethin',  too,"  he  said.  "  Everythin'  else  shuts  up  when 
th'  gray  wolf  howls." 


192 BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

''  Doubled  watches  air  not  enough  fer  tonight," 
growled  Woodson,  as  a  tremulous,  high-pitched,  chro- 
matic, and  descending  run  in  a  minor  key  floated  through 
the  little  valley.  If  it  were  an  imitation  of  a  screech-owl 
it  was  so  perfectly  done  that  no  man  in  the  caravan  could 
detect  the  difference. 

"Us  boys  will  be  scoutin'  'round  all  night,"  replied 
Tom.  "  Hank  an'  th'  others  air  gittin'  some  winks  now. 
I  don't  look  fer  no  fight  afore  daylight;  but  they'll  shore 
try  ter  stampede  us  afore  then.  Reckon  I'll  take  a  good 
listen  out  yonder,"  he  said,  and  arose.  He  went  to  Joe 
Cooper's  little  wagon  and  was  promptly  challenged. 

"  It's  Boyd,"  he  answered.  "  Stick  to  the  wagon. 
Uncle  Joe.  We  ain't  looking  for  any  rush  before  day- 
light. If  one  comes  Hank  and  I  will  get  here  quick. 
Where  is  Miss  Cooper?" 

"In  th'  wagon,  of  course!" 

"That's  no  place  for  her,"  retorted  Tom.  "Those 
sheets  won't  stop  arrows.  Put  her  under  the  wagon,  an' 
hang  blankets  down  th'  sides,  loose  at  th'  bottoms.  Tight 
blankets  or  canvas  are  little  better  than  paper ;  but  a  loose 
Mackinaw  yields  to  th'  impact  somewhat.  I've  seen  a 
loose  blanket  stop  a  musket  ball." 

"Can  I  do  anything  useful,  Mr.  Boyd?"  came  Pa- 
tience's voice  from  the  wagon.  "I  can  load  and  cap, 
anyhow." 

Tom's  chuckle  came  straight  from  his  heart.  "  Not 
yet,  God  bless  you.  Despite  their  reputation  in  some 
quarters.  Pawnees  are  not  the  most  daring  fighters.  Any 
of  the  tribes  east  of  the  Mississippi  are  paragons  of  cour- 
age when  compared  to  these  prairie  Indians.  Pawnees 
would  rather  steal  than  fight ;  and  they  know  that  this  is  no 


PAWNEES  193 


helpless  caravan,  but  one  with  nearly  two  hundred  armed 
men.  If  they  were  Comanches  or  Kiowas,  Utes  or 
Apaches,  I'd  be  bothered  a  lot  more  than  I  am  now.  And 
they  know  that  there  are  two  cannons  pointing  some- 
where into  the  night.  All  we  have  to  worry  about  is 
our  animals." 

The  mournful,  hair-raising  screech  of  an  owl  sounded 
again,  and  then  all  the  demons  of  hell  seemed  to  have 
broken  loose  around  the  camp.  The  corralled  animals, 
restless  before,  now  surged  one  way  and  now  another, 
largely  cancelling  their  own  efforts  because  wave  met 
wave;  but  all  the  while  they  were  getting  wilder  and 
more  frantic  and  the  blood-chilling  yells  on  all  sides 
finally  set  them  into  a  sort  of  rhythm  which  more  and 
more  became  uniform.  They  surged  from  one  side  to 
the  other,  striking  the  wagons  harder  and  harder.  Then 
the  yelling  ceased  and  the  Pawnee  whistle  was  heard. 
There  ensued  a  few  minutes  of  silence  and  then  the 
whistle  sounded  again.  It  set  off  a  hellish  uproar  on  one 
side  of  the  encampment  and  the  frantic  animals  whirled 
and  charged  in  the  other  direction.  The  shock  rocked 
some  of  the  wagons  and  would  have  overturned  them  but 
for  the  great  weight  of  their  loads.  Anticipating  this 
surge  of  the  animals  some  of  the  traders,  told  off  by  the 
captain,  had  bound  bundles  of  twigs  and  dried  grass 
to  long  Cottonwood  sticks  and  now  set  them  afire 
and  crawled  under  the  wagons,  thrusting  the  torches 
into  the  faces  of  the  charging  mass.  This  started  the 
animals  milling  and  soon  the  whole  herd  was  running 
in  a  circle.    The  stampede  had  failed. 

Here  and  there  from  under  the  wagons  on  the  threat- 
ened side  of  the  encampment  guns  stabbed  into  the  night. 


194  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

showing  where  tenderfeet  were  gallantly  engaged  in 
guessing  matches.  Arrows  curved  over  the  wagon  tops 
and  some  of  the  torch  wavers  on  the  other  side  of  the 
camp  had  narrow  escapes  before  their  purpose  v;as  ac- 
complished and  the  torches  burned  out. 

A  cricket  chirped  twice  and  then  twice  again  not  far 
from  Joe  Cooper's  little  wagon,  and  the  alert  plainsman 
crouched  behind  an  outer  wheel  answered  by  three  short 
trills.  "Don't  shoot,  Uncle  Joe,"  Tom  softly  called. 
*' That's  Hank.'' 

Hank  seemed  to  be  having  a  hard  time  of  it  and  made 
more  noise  than  was  his  wont.  Alarmed,  Tom  was  about 
to  crawl  out  and  help  his  friend  to  the  corral  when 
Hank's  querulous  complaint  barely  reached  him. 

"  Danged  if  ye  ain't  so  plumb  full  o'  buffaler  meat  ye 
nigh  weigh  a  ton,"  growled  the  hunter.  "Yourn  as 
heavy  as  mine,  Jim?" 

"  Wuss,"  complacently  answered  Ogden. 

"  Huh ! "  snorted  another  voice,  crowding  so  much 
meaning  into  the  ^runt  that  he  had  the  best  of  the  little 
exchange  and  the  last  word. 

"  If  I  could  twang  like  you,  Hank,"  said  Ogden,  paus- 
ing a  moment  to  rest,  "  I'd  have  a  hull  dozen,  danged  if 
I  wouldn't.  Mine's  got  nigh  ter  six  feet  o'  feathers  a- 
hangin'  ter  him." 

Tom  rocked  back  and  forth,  laughing  silently.  "  Then 
he  makes  up  fer  th'  rest  o'  yer  dozen!"  he  gasped. 
"Hostages,  by  th'  Great  Horned  Spoon!"  He  made 
some  funny  noises  in  his  throat  and  gasped  again.  "  A 
chief,  too!" 

"An'  a  plumb  waste  o'  good  ha'r,"  growled  Hank. 
"  But  jest  now  it's  wuth  more  on  thar  heads  than  fas- 


PAWNEES  195 


tened  ter  our  belts.  Hyar,  haul  this  hyar  warrior  o' 
mine  under  th'  waggin.    Vm  all  tuckered  out." 

"Hank  kin  shoot  more  arrers  with  his  mouth  than 
some  Injuns  kin  with  thar  bows,"  panted  Jim,  grasping 
a  spoke  and  yanking  his  captive  roughly  against  the 
wheel.  "All  I  kin  imitate  is  a  lance."  He  chuckled  at 
his  joke  and  rested. 

"When  Hank  twanged,  Big  Polecat,  hyar,  got  right 
up  an'  stumbled  plumb  over  me,"  said  Zeb's  weary  voice. 
"I  near  busted  his  skull  with  that  newfangled  pistol. 
It's  heftier  than  I'm  used  ter.  Wonder  is  I  didn't  bash 
his  brains  out.  Hyar,  gimme  a  hand,  I  can't  hardly 
wiggle  no  more." 

"Wonder  what  them  danged  fools  air  firin*  at?" 
queried  Hank,  as  several  shots  rang  out  in  quick  suc- 
cession from  the  other  side  of  the  encampment.  "  Don't 
they  know  th'  dance  is  over  till  mornin'  ?  " 

"Oh,  them  greenhorns'll  be  shootin'  all  night," 
growled  Ogden.  "If  thar's  a  rush  at  daylight  they  won't 
have  no  more  powder  an'  ball.  When  they  hadn't 
oughter  shoot,  they  shoot ;  when  they  oughter  shoot,  thar 
too  danged  scared  to  pull  trigger." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

HURRAH    FOR   TEXAS 

AT  DAYLIGHT  the  only  Indians  in  sight  were  sev- 
^JL  eral  rifle  shots  from  the  caravan,  but  encircHng  it. 
Hostilities  of  every  nature  apparently  had  ceased,  but 
without  causing  the  travelers  to  relax  in  their  vigilance. 
Breakfast  was  over  before  the  savages  made  any  move 
and  then  a  sizable  body  of  them  came  charging  over  the 
prairie,  brandishing  their  weapons  and  yelling  at  the 
top  of  their  voices.  While  not  the  equals  of  the  Co- 
manches  in  horsemanship  they  were  good  riders  and  as 
they  raced  toward  the  encampment,  showing  every  trick 
they  knew,  the  spectacle  was  well  worth  watching. 

"  Showin'  off,"  said  Jim  Ogden.  "  Want  ter  talk  with 
us.  Now  we  got  ter  stop  them  fool  greenhorns  from 
shootin' ! " 

At  his  warning  his  companions  ran  along  the  line  of 
wagons  and  begged  that  not  a  shot  be  fired  until  the 
captain  gave  the  word.  If  the  Indians  wanted  a  parley 
the  best  thing  would  be  to  give  it  to  them. 

Meanwhile  the  captain  and  two  experienced  men  rode 
slowly  forward,  stopping  while  still  within  rifle  shot  of 
their  friends.  The  charging  savages  pulled  up  suddenly 
and  stopped,  three  of  their  number  riding  ahead  with 
the  same  unconcern  and  calm  dignity  as  the  white  men 
had  shown.  One  of  them  raised  a  hand,  palm  out,  and 
when  well  outside  of  the  range  of  the  rifles  of  the  en- 

196 


HURRAH   FOR    TEXAS  197 

campment,  stopped  and  waited.  Captain  Woodson,  rais- 
ing his  hand,  led  his  two  companions  at  a  slow  walk 
toward  the  waiting  Indians  and  when  he  stopped,  the  two 
little  parties  were  within  easy  speaking  distance  of  each 
other.  Each  group  was  careful  to  show  neither  distrust 
nor  fear,  and  apparently  neither  was  armed.  Erect  in 
their  saddles,  each  waited  for  the  other  to  speak. 

**  My  young  men  are  angry  because  the  white  men  and 
their  wagons  have  crossed  the  Pawnee  country  and  have 
frightened  away  the  buffalo,'*  said  the  leader  of  the 
warriors,  a  chief,  through  an  interpreter. 

"  The  buffalo  are  like  the  grass  of  the  prairies,"  replied 
Woodson.  "  They  are  all  around  us  and  are  bold  enough 
to  charge  our  wagons  on  the  march  and  frighten  our  ani- 
mals." 

**  From  the  Loup  Fork  to  the  Arkansas,  from  the  Big 
Muddy  to  the  great  mountains,  is  Pawnee  country,  which 
none  dare  enter." 

"  The  Cheyennes,  the  Arapahoes,  the  Osages,  and  other 
brave  tribes  tell  us  the  same  thing.  We  do  not  know 
what  tribe  owns  this  prairie ;  but  we  do  know  that  friends 
are  always  welcome  in  the  Pawnee  country,  and  we  bring 
presents  for  our  brave  brothers,  presents  of  beads  and 
colored  cloth  and  glasses  that  show  a  man  his  spirit." 

''The  white  chief  speaks  well;  but  my  braves  are 
angry." 

"And  my  young  men  are  angry  because  they  could 
not  sleep  and  their  animals  were  frightened  like  the 
Comanches  are  frightened  by  the  Pawnees,"  replied 
Woodson.  "  They  are  hot-headed  and  are  angry  at  me 
because  I  would  not  let  them  make  war  on  our  friends, 
the  Pawnees." 


198  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

"  The  young  men  of  the  Pawnees  have  not  the  wisdom 
of  years  and  did  not  know  the  white  men  were  friends, 
and  had  brought  them  presents  of  horses  and  powder  and 
whiskey." 

"I  have  told  my  young  men  that  the  Pawnees  are 
friends.  We  did  not  think  we  would  meet  our  red 
brothers  and  have  horses  only  for  ourselves.  Our  whiskey 
and  powder  are  for  the  great  Pawnee  chiefs;  our  beads 
and  cloth  for  their  young  men." 

"It  is  well,"  replied  the  chief.  After  a  moment's 
silence  he  looked  keenly  into  Woodson's  eyes.  "The 
Pawnees  are  sad.  White  Bear  and  two  of  our  young 
men  have  not  returned  to  their  people."  His  eyes  flashed 
and  a  tenseness  seized  him  and  his  companions.  "  Great 
Eagle  wants  to  know  if  his  white  friends  have  seen 
them?" 

"  Great  Eagle's  friends  found  three  brave  Pawnees  in 
front  of  their  thunder  guns  and  they  feared  our  young 
men  would  fire  the  great  medicine  rifles  and  hurt  the 
Pawnees.  We  sent  out  and  brought  White  Bear  and 
his  warriors  to  our  camp  and  treated  them  as  welcome 
guests.  Each  of  them  shall  have  a  horse  and  a  musket, 
with  powder  and  bail,  that  they  will  not  misunderstand 
our  roughness." 

At  that  moment  yells  broke  out  on  all  sides  of  the  en- 
campment and  warriors  were  seen  dashing  west  along 
the  trail.  A  well-armed  caravan  of  twenty-two  wagons 
crawled  toward  the  creek,  and  Woodson  secretly  exulted. 
It  was  the  annual  fur  caravan  from  Bent's  Fort  to  the 
Missouri  settlements  and  every  member  of  it  was  an 
experienced  man. 

The  fur  train  did  not  seem  to  be  greatly  excited  by 


HURRAH  FOR  TEXAS 199 

the  charging  horde,  for  it  only  interposed  a  line  of 
mounted  men  between  the  wagons  and  the  savages.  The 
two  leaders  wheeled  and  rode  slowly  off  to  meet  the  In- 
dians and  soon  a  second  parley  was  taking  place.  After 
a  little  time  the  fur  caravan,  which  had  moved  steadily 
ahead,  reached  the  encampment  and  swiftly  formed  on 
one  side  of  it.  With  the  coming  of  this  re-enforcement 
of  picked  men  all  danger  of  war  ceased. 

Before  noon  the  Pawnee  chiefs  and  some  of  the  elder 
warriors  had  paid  their  visit,  received  their  presents,  sold 
a  few  horses  to  wagoners  who  had  jaded  animals  and 
then  returned  to  their  camp,  pitched  along  the  banks  of 
the  creek  a  short  distance  away.  The  afternoon  was 
spent  in  visiting  between  the  two  encampments  and  the 
night  in  alert  vigilance.  At  dawn  the  animals  were 
turned  out  to  graze  under  a  strong  guard  and  before 
noon  the  caravan  was  on  its  way  again,  its  rear  guard 
and  flankers  doubled  in  strength. 

Shortly  after  leaving  Ash  Creek  they  came  to  great 
sections  of  the  prairie  where  the  buffalo  grass  was 
cropped  as  short  as  though  a  herd  of  sheep  had  crossed 
it.  It  marked  the  grazing  ground  of  the  more  compact 
buffalo  herds.  The  next  creek  was  Pawnee  Fork,  but 
since  it  lay  only  six  miles  from  the  last  stopping  place, 
and  because  it  was  wise  to  put  a  greater  distance  be- 
tween them  and  the  Pawnees,  the  caravan  crossed  it  close 
to  where  it  emptied  into  the  Arkansas,  the  trail  circling  at 
the  double  bend  of  the  creek  and  crossing  it  twice.  Great 
care  was  needed  to  keep  the  wagons  from  upsetting  here, 
but  it  was  put  behind  without  accident  and  the  night  was 
spent  on  the  open  prairie  not  far  from  Little  Coon  Creek. 

The  fuel  question  was  now  solved  and  while  the  buf- 


200  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

falo  chips,  plentiful  all  around  them,  made  execrable, 
smudgy  fires  in  wet  weather  if  they  would  burn  at  all,  in 
dry  weather  they  gave  a  quick,  hot  fire  excellent  to  cook 
on  and  one  which  threw  out  more  heat,  with  equal 
amounts  of  fuel,  than  one  of  wood;  and  after  an  amus- 
ing activity  in  collecting  the  chips  the  entire  camp  was 
soon  girdled  by  glowing  fires. 

The  next  day  saw  them  nooning  at  the  last  named 
creek,  and  before  nightfall  they  had  crossed  Big  Coon 
Creek.  For  the  last  score  of  miles  they  had  found  such 
numbers  of  rattlesnakes  that  the  reptiles  became  a  nui- 
sance ;  but  notwithstanding  this  they  camped  here  for  the 
night,  which  was  made  more  or  less  exciting  because 
several  snakes  sought  warmth  in  the  blankets  of  some  of 
the  travelers.  It  is  not  a  pleasant  feeling  to  wake  up 
and  find  a  three-foot  prairie  rattlesnake  coiled  up  against 
one's  stomach.  Fortunately  there  were  no  casualties 
among  the  travelers  but,  needless  to  say,  there  was  very 
little  sleep. 

Next  came  the  lower  crossing  of  the  Arkansas,  where 
there  was  some  wrangling  about  the  choice  of  fords, 
many,  fearing  the  seasonal  rise  of  the  river,  which  they 
thought  was  due  almost  any  minute,  urged  that  it  be 
crossed  here,  despite  the  scarcity  of  water,  and  the  heavy 
pulling  among  the  sandhills  on  the  other  side. 

Woodson  and  the  more  experienced  traders  and 
hunters  preferred  to  chance  the  rise,  even  at  the  cost  of  a 
few  days'  delay,  and  to  cross  at  the  upper  ford.  This 
would  give  them  better  roads,  plenty  of  water  and  grass, 
a  safer  ford  and  a  shorter  drive  across  the  desert-like 
plain  between  the  Arkansas  and  the  Cimarron.  Event- 
ually he  had  his  way  and  after  spending  the  night  at 


HURRAH   FOR    TEXAS  201 

the  older  ford  the  caravan  went  on  again  along  the  north 
bank  of  the  river,  and  reached  The  Caches  in  time  to 
camp  near  them.  The  grass-covered  pits  were  a  curiosity 
and  the  story  of  how  Baird  and  Chambers  had  been 
forced  to  dig  them  to  cache  their  goods  twenty  years  be- 
fore, found  many  interested  listeners. 

All  this  day  a  heavy  rain  had  poured  down,  letting  up 
only  for  a  few  minutes  in  the  late  afternoon,  and  again 
falling  all  night  with  increased  volume.  With  it  came 
one  of  those  prairie  windstorms  which  have  made  the 
weather  of  the  plains  famous.  Tents  and  wagon  covers 
were  whipped  into  fringes,  several  of  them  being  torn 
loose  and  blown  away;  two  lightly  loaded  wagons  were 
overturned,  and  altogether  the  night  was  the  most  miser- 
able of  any  experienced  so  far.  While  the  inexperienced 
grumbled  and  swore,  Woodson  was  pleased,  for  in  spite 
of  the  delayed  crossing  of  the  river,  he  knew  that  the 
dreaded  Dry  Route  beyond  Cimarron  Crossing  would 
be  a  pleasant  stretch  in  comparison  to  what  it  usually 
was. 

Morning  found  a  dispirited  camp,  and  no  effort  was 
made  to  get  under  way  until  it  was  too  late  to  cover  the 
twenty  miles  to  the  Cimarron  Crossing  that  day,  and 
rather  than  camp  without  water  it  was  decided  to  lose  a 
day  here.  It  would  be  necessary  to  wait  for  the  river 
to  fall  again  before  they  would  dare  to  attempt  the 
crossing  and  the  time  might  as  well  be  spent  here  as  far- 
ther on.  The  rain  fell  again  that  night  and  all  the  fol- 
lowing day,  but  the  wind  was  moderate.  The  river  was 
being  watched  closely  and  it  was  found  that  it  had  risen 
four  feet  since  they  reached  The  Caches;  but  this  was 
nothing  unusual,  for,  like  most  prairie  streams,  the  Ar- 


202 "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

kansas  rose  quickly  until  its  low  banks  were  overflowed, 
when  the  loss  of  volume  by  the  flooding  of  so  much 
country  checked  it  appreciably;  and  its  fall,  once  the 
rains  ceased,  would  be  as  rapid.  High  water  was  not 
the  only  consideration  in  regard  to  the  fording  of  the 
river,  for  the  soft  bottom,  disturbed  by  the  strong  cur- 
rent, soon  lost  what  little  firmness  it  had  along  this  part 
of  the  great  bend,  and  became  treacherous  with  quick- 
sand. That  it  was  not  true  quicksand  made  but  little 
difference  so  long  as  it  mired  teams  and  wagons. 

Another  argument  now  was  begun.  There  were  sev- 
eral fords  of  the  Arkansas  between  this  point  and  the 
mountains;  and  there  were  two  routes  from  here  on, 
the  shorter  way  across  the  dry  plain  of  the  Cimarron,  as 
direct  as  any  unsurveyed  trail  could  be,  and  the  longer, 
more  roundabout  way  leading  another  hundred  miles 
farther  up  the  river  and  crossing  it  not  far  from  Bent's 
Fort,  over  a  pebbly  and  splendid  ford.  From  here  it 
turned  south  along  the  divide  between  Apishara  Creek 
and  the  Purgatoire  River,  climbed  over  the  mountain 
range  through  Raton  Pass,  and  joined  the  more  direct 
trail  near  Santa  Clara  Spring  under  the  shadow  of  the 
Wagon  Mound.  Beside  the  ford  above  Bent's  Fort  there 
was  another,  about  thirty  miles  above  The  Caches,  which 
crossed  the  river  near  Chouteau's  Island. 

Each  ford  and  each  way  had  its  adherents,  but  after 
great  argument  and  wrangling  the  Dry  Route  was  de- 
cided upon,  its  friends  not  only  proving  the  wisdom  of 
taking  the  shorter  route,  but  also  claimed  that  the  un- 
pleasantness of  the  miles  of  dry  traveling  was  no  worse 
than  the  rough  and  perilous  road  over  Raton  Pass,  where 
almost  any  kind  of  an  accident  could  happen  to  a  wagon 


HURRAH   FOR    TEXAS  203 

and  where,  if  the  caravan  were  attacked  by  Utes  or 
Apaches  before  it  reached  the  mountain  pasture  near  the 
top,  they  would  be  caught  in  a  strung-out  condition  and 
corralling  would  be  impossible.  The  danger  from,  a 
possible  ambush  and  from  rocks  rolled  down  from  above, 
in  themselves,  were  worse  than  the  desert  stretch  of  the 
shorter  route. 

At  last  dawn  broke  with  a  clear  sky,  and  with  praise- 
worthy speed  the  routine  of  the  camp  was  rushed  and 
the  wagons  were  heading  westward  again.  Late  that 
afternoon  the  four  divisions  became  two  and  rolled  down 
the  slope  toward  the  Cimarron  Crossing,  going  into  camp 
within  a  short  distance  of  the  rushing  river.  The  sun 
had  shone  all  day  and  the  night  promised  to  be  clear, 
and  some  of  the  traders  whose  goods  had  been  wetted  by 
the  storm  at  The  Caches  when  their  wagon  covers  had 
been  damaged  or  blown  away,  took  quick  advantage  of 
the  good  weather  to  spread  their  merchandise  over  sev- 
eral acres  of  sand  and  stubby  brush  to  dry  out  thor- 
oughly; and  the  four  days  spent  here,  waiting  for  the 
river  to  fall,  accomplished  the  work  satisfactorily,  al- 
though at  times  the  sky  was  overcast  and  threatened  rain, 
while  the  nights  were  damp. 

Some  of  the  more  impetuous  travelers  urged  that  time 
would  be  saved  if  bullboats  were  made  by  stretching 
buffalo  hides  over  the  wagon  boxes  and  floating  them 
across.  This  had  been  done  more  than  once,  but  with 
only  a  day  or  so  to  wait,  and  no  pressing  need  for  speed, 
the  time  saved  would  not  be  worth  the  hard  work  and 
the  risk  of  such  ferrying.  At  last  the  repeated  sound- 
ings of  the  bottom  began  to  look  favorable  and  word  was 
passed  around  that  the  crossing  would  take  place  as  soon 


204  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

as  the  camp  was  ready  to  be  left  the  next  morning,  pro- 
viding that  no  rain  fell  during  the  night. 

Daylight  showed  a  bright  sky  and  a  little  lower  level 
of  the  river  and  it  was  not  long  before  the  first  wagon 
drawn  by  four  full  teams,  after  a  warming-up  drive, 
rumbled  down  the  bank  and  hit  the  water  with  a  splash. 
The  bottom  was  still  too  soft  to  take  things  easy  in 
crossing  and  the  teams  were  not  allowed  to  pause  after 
once  they  had  entered  the  water.  A  moment's  stop  might 
mire  both  teams  and  wagons  and  cause  no  end  of  trouble, 
hard  work,  and  delay.  All  day  long  the  wagons  crossed 
and  at  night  they  were  safely  corralled  on  the  farther 
bank,  on  the  edge  of  the  Dry  Route  and  no  longer  on 
United  States  soil. 

That  evening  the  leaders  of  the  divisions  went  among 
their  followers  and  urged  that  in  the  morning  every 
water  cask  and  container  available  for  holding  water  be 
filled.  This  flat,  monotonous,  dry  plain  might  require 
three  days  to  cross  and  every  drop  of  water  would  be 
precious.  Should  any  be  found  after  the  recent  rains  it 
would  be  in  buffalo  wallows  and  more  fit  for  animals 
than  for  human  beings.  Again  in  the  morning  the  warn- 
ing was  carried  to  every  person  in  the  camp  and  the  need 
for  heeding  it  gravely  emphasized ;  and  when  the  caravan 
started  on  the  laborious  and  treacherous  journey  across 
the  fringe  of  sand-hills  and  hillocks  which  extended  for 
five  or  six  miles  beyond  the  river,  where  upsetting  of 
wagons  was  by  no  means  an  exception,  half  a  dozen 
wagons  had  empty  water  casks.  Their  owners  had  been 
too  busy  doing  inconsequential  things  to  think  of  obeying 
the  orders  for  a  "water  scrape,"  given  for  their  own 
good. 


HURRAH   FOR    TEXAS  205 

The  outlying  hilly  fringe  of  sand  was  not  as  bad  as  had 
been  expected  for  the  heavy  rains  had  wetted  it  well  and 
packed  the  sand  somewhat ;  but  when  the  great  flat  plain 
was  reached  and  the  rough  belt  left  behind,  two  wagons 
had  been  overturned  and  held  up  the  whole  caravan  while 
they  were  unloaded,  righted,  and  re-packed.  Since  no  one 
had  been  injured  the  misfortunes  had  been  taken  lightly 
and  the  columns  went  on  again  in  good  spirits. 

It  was  not  yet  noon  when  the  advance  guard  came 
upon  an  unusual  sight.  The  plain  was  torn  and  scored 
and  covered  with  sheepskin  saddle-pads,  broken  riding 
gear,  battered  and  discarded  fire-locks  of  so  ancient  a 
vintage  that  it  were  doubtful  whether  they  would  be  as 
dangerous  to  an  enemy  as  they  might  be  to  their  owners ; 
broken  lances,  bows  and  arrows,  torn  clothing,  a  two- 
wheeled  cart  overturned  and  partly  burned,  and  half  a 
score  dead  mules  and  horses. 

Captain  Woodson  looked  from  the  strewed  ground, 
around  the  faces  of  his  companions. 

"Injuns  an'  greasers?"  he  asked,  glancing  at  the  re- 
mains of  the  carreta  in  explanation  of  the  "  greaser  "  end 
of  the  couplet.  The  replies  were  affirmative  in  nature 
until  Tom  Boyd,  looking  fixedly  at  one  remnant  of  cloth- 
ing, swept  it  from  the  ground  and  regarded  it  in  amaze- 
ment. Without  a  word  he  passed  it  on  to  Hank,  who 
eyed  it  knowingly  and  sent  it  along. 

"I'm  bettin'  th'  Texans  licked  'em  good,"  growled 
Tom.  "It's  about  time  somebody  paid  'em  fer  that 
damnable,  two  thousand  mile  trail  o'  sufferin'  an'  death  \ 
Wish  I'd  had  a  hand  in  this  fight!" 

Assenting  murmurs  came  from  the  hunters  and  trap- 
pers, all  of  whom  would  have  been  happy  to  have  pulled 


2o6 ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

trigger  with  the  wearers  of  the  coats  with  the  Lone  Star 
buttons. 

Tom  shook  his  head  after  a  moment's  reflection. 
*'  Hope  it  war  reg'lar  greaser  troops  an'  not  poor  devils 
pressed  inter  service.  That's  th'  worst  o'  takin'  re- 
venge ;  ye  Hkely  take  it  out  o'  th'  hides  of  them  that  ain't 
to  blame,  an'  th'  guilty  dogs  ain't  hurt." 

"Mebby  Salezar  war  leadin'  'em!"  growled  Hank. 
** Hope  so!" 

"Hope  not!"  snapped  Tom,  his  eyes  glinting.  "/ 
want  Salezar !  I  want  him  in  my  two  hands,  with  plenty 
o'  time  an'  nobody  around!  I'd  as  soon  have  him  as 
Armijo!" 

** Who's  he?"  asked  a  tenderfoot.  "And  what  about 
the  Texans,  and  this  fight  here?" 

"He's  the  greaser  cur  that  had  charge  o'  th'  Texan 
prisoners  from  Santa  Fe  to  El  Paso,  where  they  war 
turned  over  to  a  gentleman  an'  a  Christian,"  answered 
Tom,  his  face  tense.  "  I  owe  him  f er  th'  death,  by  starva- 
tion an'  abuse,  of  as  good  a  friend  as  any  man  ever  had : 
an'  if  T  git  my  hands  on  him  he'll  pay  fer  it!  That's  who 
he  ^s!" 

The  first  day's  travel  across  the  dry  stretch,  notwith- 
standing the  start  had  been  later  than  was  hoped  for, 
rolled  off  more  than  twenty  miles  of  the  flat,  monotonous 
plain.  Even  here  the  grama  grass  was  not  entirely  miss- 
ing, and  a  nooning  of  two  hours  was  taken  to  let  the 
animals  crop  as  much  of  it  as  they  could  find.  While  the 
caravan  was  now  getting  onto  the  fringe  of  the  Kiowa 
and  Comanche  country,  trouble  with  these  tribes,  at  this 
time  of  the  year,  was  not  expected  until  the  Cimarron 
was  reached  and  for  this  reason  the  urging  for  mileage 


HURRAH   FOR    TEXAS  207 

was  allowed  to  keep  the  wagons  moving  until  dark. 
During  the  night  the  wagoners  arose  several  times  to 
change  the  picket  stakes  of  their  animals,  hoping  by  this 
and  by  lengthened  ropes  to  make  up  for  the  scantiness 
of  the  grass.  In  one  other  way  was  the  sparsity  of  the 
grazing  partly  made  up,  for  the  grama  grass  was  a  con- 
centrated food,  its  small  seed  capsules  reputed  to  contain 
a  nourishment  approaching  that  of  oats  of  the  same  size. 

The  heat  of  the  day  had  been  oppressive  and  the  con- 
tents of  the  water  casks  were  showing  the  effects  of  it. 
The  feather-headed  or  stubborn  know-it-alls  who  had  ig- 
nored the  call  of  "  water  scrape  "  back  on  the  bank  of  the 
Arkansas  now  were  humble  pilgrims  begging  for  drinks 
from  their  more  provident  companions.  Tom  and  Hank 
had  filled  their  ten-gallon  casks  and  put  them  in  Joe 
Cooper's  wagons  for  the  use  of  his  and  their  animals 
which,  being  mules,  found  a  dry  journey  less  trying  than 
the  heavy-footed  oxen  of  other  teams.  The  mules  also 
showed  an  ability  far  beyond  their  homed  draft  fellows 
in  picking  up  sufficient  food;  they  also  were  free  from 
the  foot  troubles  which  now  began  to  be  shown  by  the 
oxen.  The  triumphant  wagoners  of  the  muddier  portions 
of  the  trail,  whose  oxen  had  caused  them  to  exult  by  the 
way  they  had  out-pulled  the  mules  in  every  mire,  now 
became  thoughtful  and  lost  their  levity. 

Breakfast  was  cooked  and  eaten  before  daylight  and 
the  wagons  were  strung  out  in  the  four  column  forma- 
tion before  dawn  streaked  the  sky.  A  few  buffalo  wal- 
lows, half  full  of  water  from  the  recent  rains,  relieved 
the  situation,  and  the  thirsty  animals  emptied  their 
slightly  alkaline  contents  to  the  last  obtainable  drop.  This 
second  day  found  the  plain  more  barren,  more  desolate,. 


2o8  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

its  flat  floor  apparently  interminable,  and  the  second 
night  camp  was  not  made  until  after  dark,  the  wagons 
corralling  by  the  aid  of  candle  lanterns  slung  from  their 
rear  axles.  It  was  a  silent  camp,  lacking  laughter  and 
high-pitched  voices ;  and  the  begging  water  seekers,  while 
not  denied  their  drinks,  were  received  with  a  sullenness 
which  was  eloquent.  One  of  them  was  moved  to  com- 
plain querulously  to  Tom  Boyd  of  the  treatment  he  had 
received  at  one  wagon,  and  forthwith  learned  a  few  facts 
about  himself  and  his  kind. 

"  Look  hyar,"  drawled  Tom  in  his  best  frontier  dialect. 
"If  I  war  runnin'  this  caravan  yer  tongue  would  be 
hangin'  out  fer  th'  want  o'  a  drink.  You  war  warned, 
fair  an'  squar,  back  on  th'  Arkansas,  ter  carry  all  th' 
water  ye  could.  But  ye  knew  it  all,  jest  like  ye  know  it 
all  every  time  a  better  man  gives  ye  an  order.  If  it 
warn't  fer  yer  kind  th'  Injuns  along  th'  trail  would  be 
friendly.    Hyar,  let  me  tell  ye  somethin' : 

"We  been  follerin',  day  after  day,  a  plain  trail,  so 
plain  that  even  you  could  foller  it.  But  thar  was  a  time 
when  thar  warn't  no  trail,  but  jest  an  unmarked  plain, 
without  a  landmark,  level  as  it  is  now,  all  'round  fur's 
th'  eye  could  reach.  Thar  warn't  much  knowed  about  it 
years  ago,  an'  sometimes  a  caravan  wandered  'round  out 
hyar,  its  water  gone  an'  th'  men  an'  animals  slowly 
dyin'  fer  a  drink.  Some  said  go  this  way,  some  said  to 
go  that  way ;  others,  other  ways.  Nobody  knowed  which 
war  right,  an'  so  they  went  every-which  way,  addin'  mile 
to  mile  in  thar  wanderin'.  Then  they  blindly  stumbled 
outer  th'  Cimarron,  which  they  had  ter  do  if  they  fol- 
lered  thar  compasses  an'  kept  on  goin'  south;  an'  when 
they  got  thar  they  found  it  dry !    Do  ye  understand  that  ? 


HURRAH   FOR    TEXAS  209 

They  found  th'  river  dry!  Jest  a  river  bed  o'  sand,  mile 
after  mile,  dry  as  a  bone. 

"Which  way  should  they  go?  It  warn't  a  question 
then,  o'  headin'  fer  Santa  Fe;  but  o'  headin*  any  way 
a-tall  ter  git  ter  th*  nearest  water.  If  they  went  down 
they  was  as  bad  off  as  if  they  went  up,  fer  th'  bed  war 
dry  fer  miles  either  way  in  a  dry  season.  Sufferin'? 
Hell!  you  don't  know  what  sufferin'  is!  A  few  o' 
you  fools  air  thirsty,  but  yer  beggin'  gits  ye  water. 
Suppose  thar  warn't  no  water  a-tall  in  th'  hull  caravan, 
fer  men,  wimmin,  children,  or  animals  ?  Suppose  ye  war 
so  thirsty  that  you'd  drink  what  ye  found  in  th'  innards 
o'  some  ol'  buffalo  yer  war  lucky  enough  ter  kill,  an'  near 
commit  murder  ter  git  f urst  chanct  at  it  ?  That  war  done 
onct.  Don't  ye  let  me  hear  ye  bellerin'  about  bein' 
thirsty !  Suppose  we  all  had  done  like  you,  back  thar  on 
th'  Arkansas?  An'  don't  ye  come  ter  us  fer  water!  If 
we  had  bar'ls  o'  it,  we'd  pour  it  out  under  yer  nose  afore 
we'd  give  ye  a  mouthful !  Yer  larnin'  some  lessons  this 
hyar  trip,  but  yer  larnin'  'em  too  late.  Go  'bout  yer 
business  an'  think  things  over.  We're  comin'  ter  bad 
Injun  country.  If  ye  got  airy  sense  a-tall  in  yer  chuckle 
head  ye'll  mebby  have  a  chanct  ter  show  it." 

Before  noon  on  the  third  day,  after  crossing  more 
broken  country  which  was  cut  up  with  many  dry  washes 
through  which  the  wagons  wallowed  in  imminent  danger 
of  being  wrecked,  the  caravan  came  to  the  Cimarron,  and 
found  it  dry.  Cries  of  consternation  broke  out  on  all 
sides,  and  were  followed  by  dogmatic  denials  that  it 
was  the  Cimarron.  The  arguments  waged  hotly  be- 
tween those  who  were  making  their  first  trip  and  the 
more  experienced  traders.     Who  ever  heard  of  a  dry 


2IO  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

river?  This  was  only  another  dry  wash,  wider  and 
longer,  but  only  a  wash.  The  Cimarron  lay  beyond. 
Here  ensued  the  most  serious  of  all  the  disagreements, 
for  a  large  number  of  the  members  of  the  caravans 
scoffed  when  told  that  by  following  the  plain  wagon 
tracks  they  would  soon  reach  the  lower  spring  of  the 
Cimarron.  How  could  the  spring  be  found  when  this 
was  not  the  Cimarron  River  at  all?  They  knew  that 
when  Woodson  had  been  elected  at  Council  Grove  that 
he  was  not  fitted  to  take  charge  of  the  caravan;  that  his 
officers  were  incompetent,  and  now  they  were  sure  of  it. 
Anyone  with  sense  could  see  that  this  was  no  river.  If  it 
were  a  river,  then  the  prairie-dog  mounds  they  had  just 
passed  were  mountains.  Here  was  a  situation  which 
needed  more  than  tact,  for  if  the  doubting  minority  was 
allowed  to  follow  their  inclinations  they  might  find  a 
terrible  death  at  the  end  of  their  wanderings.  Dogmatic 
and  pugnacious,  almost  hysterical  in  their  repeated  de- 
termination to  go  on  and  find  the  river,  they  must  be 
saved,  by  force  if  necessary,  from  themselves.  They 
would  not  listen  to  the  plea  that  they  go  on  a  few  miles 
and  let  the  spring  prove  them  to  be  wrong;  there  was  no 
spring  to  be  found  in  a  few  miles  if  it  was  located  on 
the  Cimarron.  Woodson  and  others  argued,  begged,  and 
at  last  threatened.  They  pointed  out  that  they  were 
familiar  with  every  foot  of  the  trail  from  one  end  to 
the  other;  that  they  had  made  the  journey  year  after 
year,  spring  and  fall;  that  here  was  the  deeply  cut  trail, 
pointing  out  the  way  to  water,  where  other  wagons  had 
rolled  before  them,  following  the  plain  and  unequivocal 
tracks.  The  debate  was  growing  noisier  and  more  heated 
when  Tom  stepped  forward  and  raised  his  hand. 


HURRAH    FOR    TEXAS  211 

"Listen!"  he  shouted  again  and  again,  and  at  last 
was  given  a  grudged  hearing.  "Let's  prove  this  ques- 
tion, for  it's  a  mighty  serious  one,"  he  cried.  "Last 
year,  where  th'  trail  hit  th'  Cimarron,  which  had  some 
water  in  it  then,  a  team  of  mules,  frantic  from  thirst, 
ran  away  with  a  Dearborn  carriage  as  the  driver  was 
getting  out.  When  we  came  up  with  them  we  found 
one  of  them  with  a  broken  leg,  struggling  in  the  wreck- 
age of  the  carriage.  I  have  not  been  out  of  your  sight 
all  morning,  and  if  I  tell  you  where  to  find  that  wrecked 
carriage,  and  you  do  find  it,  you'll  know  that  Fm  tellin' 
th'  truth,  an'  that  this  is  th'  Cimarron.  Go  along  this 
bank,  about  four  hundred  yards,  an'  you'll  find  a  steep- 
walled  ravine  some  thirty  feet  higher  than  th'  bed  of  th' 
river.  At  th'  bottom  of  it,  a  hundred  yards  from  th* 
river  bank,  you'll  find  what's  left  of  th'  Dearborn.  When 
you  come  back  we'll  show  you  how  to  relieve  your  thirst 
and  to  get  enough  water  to  let  you  risk  goin'  on  to  th' 
spring." 

Sneers  and  ridicule  replied  to  him,  but  a  skeptical 
crowd,  led  by  the  man  he  had  lectured  the  night  before, 
followed  his  suggestion  and  soon  returned  with  the  word 
that  the  wrecked  carriage  had  been  found  just  where 
Tom  had  said  it  would  be.  The  contentious  became 
softened  and  made  up  in  sullenness  what  they  lacked  in 
pugnacity;  for  there  are  some  who,  proven  wrong,  find 
cause  for  anger  in  the  correction,  their  stubbornness  of 
such  a  quality  that  it  seems  to  prefer  to  hold  to  an  error 
and  take  the  penalties  than  to  accept  safety  by  admitting 
that  they  are  wrong. 

In  the  meanwhile  the  experienced  travelers  had  gone 
down  into  the  river  bed  and  dug  holes  in  the  sand  which. 


212  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

thanks  to  the  recent  rains,  was  a  masked  reservoir  and 
yielded  all  the  water  needed  at  a  depth  of  two  or  three 
feet.  After  a  hard  struggle  with  the  thirsty  animals  to 
keep  them  from  stampeding  for  the  water  their  nostrils 
scented,  at  last  all  had  been  watered  and  the  wagons 
formed  for  the  noon  camp.  Humbled  greenhorns  who 
had  neglected  the  "  water  scrape  "  at  the  Arkansas  were 
silently  digging  holes  along  the  river  bed  and  filling  every 
vessel  they  could  spare.  They  were  making  the  acquaint- 
ance of  a  river  of  a  kind  they  never  had  seen  before. 

Here  they  found  a  dry  stretch,  despite  the  heavy  rains ; 
had  they  now  gone  down  or  up  its  bed  they  would  have 
found  alternating  sections  of  water  and  dry  sand,  and  in 
the  water  sections  they  would  have  found  a  current. 
Some  of  the  traders  maintained  that  its  real  bed  was 
solid,  unfractured  rock,  many  feet  below  the  sand  which 
covered  it,  which  held  the  water  as  in  a  pipe  and  let  it 
follow  its  tendency  to  seek  its  level.  The  deep  sand 
blotted  and  hid  the  meager  stream  where  the  bottom  was 
farther  below  the  sand's  surface;  but  where  the  porous 
layer  was  not  so  thick,  the  volume  of  water,  being  larger 
than  that  of  the  sand,  submerged  the  filling  and  flowed 
in  plain  sight.  Some  of  the  more  uncritical  held  that  the 
water  flowed  with  the  periodicity  of  tides,  which  like 
many  other  irrational  suppositions,  seemed  to  give  the 
required  explanation  of  the  river's  peculiarities.  There 
was  no  doubt,  however,  about  the  porosity  of  its  sandy 
bed,  nor  the  amount  of  sand  in  it,  for  even  after  the 
most  severe  and  prolonged  summer  rainstorms,  which 
filled  the  river  to  overflowing,  a  few  days  sufficed  to  dry 
it  up  again  and  restore  its  characteristics. 

Having  full  water  casks  again  the  hysteria  had  sub- 


HURRAH   FOR    TEXAS  213 

sided  and  the  caravan  set  out  toward  the  lower  spring, 
which  was  reached  just  before  nightfall.  Here  they 
found  two  men  comfortably  camped,  despite  the  fact 
that  they  were  in  the  country  of  their  implacable  foes. 
At  first  they  showed  a  poorly  hidden  alarm  at  the  appear- 
ance of  the  wagons  but,  finding  that  they  aroused  no 
especial  interest,  they  made  themselves  a  part  of  the  camp 
and  began  to  get  acquainted;  but  it  was  noticeable  that 
they  chose  the  hunters  and  trappers  in  preference  to  the 
traders,  and  carefully  ignored  the  many  Mexicans  with 
the  train.  But  no  matter  how  careful  they  were  in  their 
speech  they  could  not  hide  their  identity,  for  the  buttons 
on  their  torn  and  soiled  clothing  all  showed  the  Lone  Star 
of  Texas,  and  to  certain  of  the  plainsmen  this  insignia 
made  them  cordially  welcome.  Among  the  Mexicans  it 
made  them  just  as  cordially  hated. 

Tom  Boyd  espied  them  when  the  corral  had  been 
formed  and  invited  them  to  join  him  and  Hank  at  supper. 
A  few  words  between  the  Texans  and  the  two  plainsmen 
established  a  close  bond  between  them,  and  they  became 
friends  the  instant  Tom  mentioned  the  partner  he 
had  lost  on  the  march  of  the  First  Texan  Expedition. 
Hank's  careless  reference  to  the  treatment  his  partner 
had  given  Armijo  on  the  streets  of  Santa  Fe  caused  them 
to  look  carefully  around  and  then,  in  low  voices,  tell  the 
two  plainsmen  about  the  events  which  recently  had  trans- 
pired between  the  Cimarron  and  the  Arkansas. 

"  Th'  greasers  in  this  hyar  train  air  plumb  lucky,"  said 
one  of  the  Texans,  who  called  himself  Jed  Burch. 
"Ain't  that  so.  Buck?" 

Buck  Flint  nodded  sourly.  "  They  kin  thank  them 
d  —  d  dragoons  o'  yourn,  friend,"  he  answered. 


214  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

"  How's  that?  "  asked  Tom.  "  An'  what  about  th'  fight 
we  saw  signs  of,  a  couple  o'  days  back?" 

"It's  all  part  of  a  long  story,"  replied  Jed,  gloomily. 
"Reckon  ye  might  as  well  have  th'  hull  of  it,  so  ye'U 
know  what's  up,  out  hyar."  He  looked  around  cau- 
tiously. "  Don't  want  no  d  —  d  greasers  larnin'  it, 
though.    Who  air  these  fellers  comin'  now  ?  " 

"Good  friends  o'  ourn,"  said  Hank.  "Couple  o' 
hunters  that  hang  out,  most  o'  th'  time,  at  Bent's  Fort." 

Jim  and  Zeb  arrived,  were  introduced  and  vouched  for, 
and  the  little  circle  sat  bunched  together  as  the  strangers 
explained  some  recent  history. 

"  Ye  see,  boys,"  began  Burch,  "  us  Texans  air  pizen 
ag'in  greasers,  'specially  since  Armijo  treated  McLeod's 
boys  wuss  nor  dogs.  So  a  passel  o'  us  got  together  this 
spring  an'  come  up  hyar  ter  git  in  a  crack  they  wouldn't 
fergit.  Me  an'  Buck,  hyar,  was  with  th'  first  crowd, 
under  Warfield,  an'  we  larned  'em  a  lesson  up  on  th' 
Mora.  Thar  warn't  more'n  a  score  of  us,  an'  we  raided 
that  village,  nigh  under  th'  nose  o'  Santer  Fe,  killed  some 
o'  th'  greasers,  didri't  lose  a  man,  an'  run  off  every  hoss 
they  had,  ter  keep  'em  from  foUerin'  us.  But  we  got 
careless  an'  one  night  th'  danged  greasers  an'  settlement 
Injuns  come  up  ter  us  an'  stampeded  all  thar  own  bosses 
an'  ourn,  too,  an'  didn't  give  us  a  lick  at  'em.  That  put 
us  afoot  with  all  our  stuff.  Thar  warn't  nothin'  we 
could  do,  then,  but  burn  our  saddles  an'  what  we  couldn't 
carry,  an'  hoof  it  straight  fer  Bent's.  We  was  on  U.  S. 
soil  thar,  so  Warfield  disbanded  us  an'  turned  us  loose; 
but  we  knowed  whar  ter  go,  an'  we  went. 

"Colonel  Snively  war  ter  be  at  a  sartin  place  on  th' 
Arkansas,  an'  he  war  thar.     We  jined  up  with  him  an 


HURRAH   FOR    TEXAS  215 

went  along  this  hyar  trail,  larnin'  that  Armijo  war 
a-lookin'  fer  us  somewhar  on  it.  Hell!  He  warn't 
a-lookin'  fer  us:  he  had  a  powerful  advance  guard  out 
feelin'  th'  way,  but  he  warn't  with  it.  We  come  up  ter 
that  party  and  cleaned  it  up,  nobody  on  our  side  gittin' 
more'n  a  scratch.  But  we  couldn't  git  no  news  about  th' 
caravan  that  war  due  ter  come  along  'most  any  day,  an' 
some  o*  th'  boys  got  discouraged  an'  went  home.  Th' 
rest  o'  us  went  back  ter  th'  Arkansas,  campin'  half  a 
day's  ride  below  th'  Caches,  whar  we  could  keep  our  eyes 
on  th'  old  crossin'  an'  th'  main  trail  at  th'  same  time.  An' 
we  hadn't  been  thar  very  long  afore  'long  comes  th'  cara- 
van, full  o'  greasers.  But,  hell:  it  war  guarded  by  a 
couple  hundred  dragoons  under  yer  Captain  Cook  which 
kept  us  from  hittin'  it  till  it  got  acrost  th'  river  an'  past 
th'  sand-hills,  whar  U.  S.  troops  dassn't  go,  seein'  it's 
Texas  soil. 

"  Everythin'  would  'a'  been  all  right  if  Snively  hadn't 
got  polite  an'  went  over  ter  visit  Cook.  They  had  a  red- 
hot  palaver.  Cook  sayin'  he  warn't  goin'  ter  escort  a  car- 
avan till  it  was  plumb  inter  danger  an'  then  stand  by 
an'  let  it  go  on  ter  git  wiped  out.  Snively  told  him  we 
warn't  aimin*  ter  wipe  it  out,  but  only  ter  get  th'  greas- 
ers with  it.  They  had  it  powerful  hard,  I  heard,  an' 
Cook  up  an'  says  he's  goin'  ter  take  our  guns  away  from 
us  if  it  cost  him  every  man  he  had.  Danged  if  he  didn't 
doit,  too!" 

Flint  was  laughing  heartily  and  broke  in.  "  Wonder 
what  he  thought  o'  our  weapons  ?  "  he  exulted.  "  Not  one 
o'  'em  that  he  got  from  our  bunch  war  worth  a  dang." 

Burch  grinned  in  turn.  "  Ye  see,  we  had  took  th'  guns 
belongin'  ter  Armijo's  scoutin'  party,  an'  when  Cook  took 


2i6 ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

up  his  collection,  a  lot  o'  th'  boys,  hidin'  thar  own  good 
weapons,  sorrerfully  hands  over  th'  danged  escopetas  an' 
blunderbusses  an'  bows  an'  arrers  o'  th'  greasers.  How- 
ever, he  disarmed  us  an'  kept  us  thar  till  th'  caravan 
got  such  a  big  start  thar  warn't  no  earthly  use  o'  goin' 
after  it,  thar  not  bein'  more'n  sixty  or  seventy  o'  us  that 
had  good  weapons.  Some  o'  th'  boys  struck  out  f  er  home, 
an'  a  couple  o'  score  went  with  th'  dragoons  back  ter 
Missouri.  Us  that  war  left,  about  as  many  as  went  home, 
made  Warfield  captain  ag'in  an'  went  after  th'  danged 
caravan,  anyhow.  We  follered  it  near  ter  Point  o'  Rocks 
before  we  gave  it  up.  Nobody  reckoned  thar  war  two 
caravans  on  th'  trail  this  year,  so  Warfield  an'  most  o' 
th'  boys  went  back  ter  Texas;  but  thar's  considerable 
few  o'  us  roamin'  'round  up  hyar,  dodgin'  th'  Comanches 
on  a  gamble  o'  gittin'  in  a  crack  at  some  o'  Armijo's 
sojers  that  might  come  scoutin'  'round  ter  see  if  we  has 
all  went  back.  Anyhow,  bein'  so  fur  from  home,  an' 
hankerin'  fer  a  little  huntin',  we  figgered  that  we  might 
stay  up  hyar  till  fall,  or  mebby  all  winter  if  we  hung  out 
at  Bent's." 

"We  made  a  big  mistake,  though,"  confessed  Flint. 
"  Ye  see,  a  greaser  must  'a'  got  away  from  that  fight  an' 
took  th'  news  ter  Armijo.  When  we  passed  Cold  Spring, 
follerin'  th'  caravan,  we  come  on  his  camp,  an'  it  war 
plumb  covered  with  ridin'  gear  an'  belongin's  that  none 
o'  his  brave  army  had  time  ter  collect  proper.  Some  o' 
us  that  had  ter  burn  our  saddles  war  ridin'  bareback,  but 
we  got  saddles  thar.  He  must  'a'  lit  out  pronto  when  he 
larned  Texans  war  a-rampagin'  along  th'  trail.  From 
th'  signs  he  didn't  even  wait  fer  th'  caravan  he  war  goin' 
ter  protect,  but  jest  went  a-kiyotin'  fer  home." 


HURRAH   FOR    TEXAS  217 

"  He  knew  th'  difference  between  starved  an*  betrayed 
Texans,  an*  Texans  that  war  fixed  ter  fight,"  growled 
Tom.     "  Go  on :  what  was  th*  mistake  ?  ** 

"Wall,  Warfield  said  that  if  we  had  made  that  van- 
guard surrender  peaceful,  which  they  would  'a*  done, 
we  could  *a'  captured  every  man,  kept  th*  news  from 
Armijo,  an*  larned  jest  whar  ter  find  him.  He  would  *a* 
been  waitin*  f er  his  scoutin'  party,  an*  some  mornin'  about 
daylight  he  would  *a*  found  a  scoutin*  party — from 
Texas,  an*  mad  an'  mean  as  rattlers.  It  don't  alius  pay 
ter  let  yer  tempers  git  th'  best  o*  ye,  an*  make  ye  jump 
afore  ye  look.  We'd  *a*  ruther  got  Armijo  than  th* 
whole  cussed  advance  guard,  an*  th*  rest  o*  his  army,  too.** 

"With  Salezar,'*  muttered  Tom. 

Burch  jumped.  "Aye!"  he  snarled.  "With  Salezar! 
Fer  them  two  I*d  *a*  been  in  favor  o*  lettin*  all  th'  rest 
go! 

"  What  you  boys  goin'  ter  do  now  ?  **  asked  Hank. 

"Fool  *round  up  hyar,  dodgin*  war-parties  that  air 
too  big  ter  lick,**  answered  Flint  "  We  been  scoutin*  up 
th*  river,  an*  our  friends  air  on  a  scout  back  in  th*  hills, 
tryin*  ter  locate  th'  nearest  Comanche  village.  We  cleaned 
out  one  on  th*  way  up,  back  on  th*  Washita.  We're  aimin* 
ter  run  a  big  buffaler  hunt  as  soon  as  we  locates  th'  hos- 
tiles.** 

"How  many  are  there  of  you?*'  asked  Tom,  thought- 
fully. 

"'Bout  a  dozen  or  fifteen:  why?**  asked  Burch. 

"Not  a  very  big  party  to  be  playin*  tag  with  th* 
Comanches  in  thar  own  country,'*  Tom  replied. 

With  his  foot  Burch  pushed  a  stick  back  into  the  fire 
and  then  glanced   around   the  little  circle.     "Wonder 


£i8 "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

what  th'  white  men  o'  this  wagon  train  would  do  if  we 
rode  up  an'  asked  f  er  th'  greasers  in  it  ter  be  turned  over 
ter  us  ?  "  he  asked. 

Tom  smiled.  "  Fight  as  long  as  we  could  pull  trigger," 
he  answered.  "We  ain't  betrayin'  no<  members  o'  th' 
caravan.  Lord  knows  we  don't  like  greasers,  an'  we  do 
feel  strong  for  Texas;  but  we'd  be  plain  skunks  if  we 
didn't  stick  with  our  feller  travelers." 

**An'  what  could  we  say  when  we  got  inter  Santer 
Fe,  if  we  dared  go  thar  ?  "  asked  Hank. 

Burch  nodded,  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  changed 
the  subject  to  that  of  the  unfortunate  First  Texan  Ex- 
pedition and  the  terrible  sufferings  it  underwent,  a 
subject  at  that  time  very  prominent  in  all  Texan  hearts. 
It  did  not  take  them  long  to  judge  accurately  the  real 
feelings  of  their  hosts  and  to  learn  that  their  sympathies 
were  all  for  Texas;  but  even  with  this  knowledge  they 
did  not  again  refer  to  anything  connected  with  their 
presence  along  the  trail;  instead,  they  were  careful  to 
create  the  impression  that  their  little  party  intended  to 
start  almost  immediately  northwest  across  the  Cimarron 
desert  for  Bent's  Fort,  and  from  there  to  scour  the  plains 
for  buffalo  skins.  They  even  asked  about  the  Bayou 
Salade  and  its  contiguous  mountain  ** parks"  as  a  place 
to  hunt  and  trap  during  the  coming  winter.  After  dark 
they  said  their  good-byes  and  left  the  encampment,  to  the 
vast  relief  of  the  Mexicans  with  the  train.  And  that  night 
and  the  next,  the  Mexicans  who  chanced  to  be  on  watch 
were  the  most  alert  of  all  the  guards. 

After  their  guests  had  gone  the  four  friends  sat  in 
silence  for  awhile,  reviewing  what  they  had  learned,  and 
then  Hank  spoke  up. 


HURRAH   FOR    TEXAS  219 

"Reckon  we  better  tell  Woodson  that  thar  won't  be 
no  greaser  troops  waitin'  fer  us  this  trip?"  he  asked. 

Tom  was  about  to  nod,  but  changed  his  mind  and 
quickly  placed  his  hand  on  his  partner's  shoulder.  "  No," 
he  said  slowly.  "  I'm  beginnin'  ter  see  through  th'  holes 
in  th'  ladder!  Not  a  word,  boys,  ter  anybody!  Pedro's 
lie  about  thar  bein'  no  guard  ter  meet  us  this  year  ain*t 
a  lie  no  more ;  but  he  don't  know  it,  an'  he  ain't  goin'  ter 
know  it!  Meantime,  we'll  keep  our  ears  an'  eyes  open, 
an'  be  ready  ter  jump  like  cats.    I  got  a  suspicion  I " 

"I  got  a  bran'  new  one,"  chuckled  Hank.  "Hurrah 
for  Texas!" 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THZ   VALI.EY   OF   THB   CIMARRON 

BECAUSE  of  the  next  stretch  to  certain  water,  a 
matter  of  about  thirty-five  miles,  another  very  early 
start  was  made  after  the  surrounding  country  had  been 
searched  by  the  plainsmen  for  si^s  of  Indians.  Although 
later  in  the  season  than  usual  for  a  caravan  to  cover  this 
part  of  the  route,  the  dreaded  dry  stretch  along  the  usu- 
ally empty  river  bed  was  found  broken  here  and  there  by 
shallow  pools  and  advantage  was  taken  of  these  to  soak 
the  wooden  rims  of  some  of  the  older  and  more  faulty 
wagon  wheels.  One  trader  with  a  wagon  which  never 
should  have  left  Missouri  had  been  put  to  great  trouble 
to  keep  the  tires  on  his  two  front  wheels  and  had  "bor- 
rowed "  about  all  the  wire  and  hoop-iron  his  friends  felt 
disposed  to  give  him.  He  had  driven  so  many  pieces  of 
iron  between  the  felloes  and  the  tires  that  daylight  could 
be  seen  between  the  two;  and  on  topping  a  little  hill 
between  two  ravines  near  the  river  bank  one  of  the  tires 
slipped  off  and  went  rolling  and  bounding  down  the  slope 
onto  the  dry  river  bed.  Amid  roars  of  laughter  the  col- 
umn stopped  until  he  had  recovered  it  and  re-wedged  it 
onto  the  wheel,  and  at  the  next  nooning  stop  he  drove 
the  wagon  into  a  trickle  of  water  running  down  the 
middle  of  the  river  bed  and  spent  most  of  his  time  back- 
ing and  pulling  to  get  every  part  of  the  wheels  soaked. 
A  strong  body  of  scouts  which  had  pushed  on  ahead  of 

220 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  CIMARRON      221 

the  column  returned  shortly  after  the  noon  camp  had 
been  left,  and  reported  that  about  ten  miles  farther  on  a 
section  of  the  river  several  hundred  yards  long  was  full 
of  water.  Not  being  able  to  make  the  Middle  Spring 
that  day,  this  wet  section  of  the  river  was  decided  upon 
for  the  night  camp.  A  score  of  mounted  men  were  sent 
on  ahead  to  scour  the  country  for  signs  of  Indians,  but 
became  so  hungry  for  the  numerous  kinds  of  wild  fruits 
and  berries  along  the  sides  of  the  ravines,  that  they  did 
their  work  poorly  and  did  not  reach  the  proposed  camp 
site  much  before  the  caravan  got  there. 

The  country  was  cut  by  a  maze  of  ravines  and  gullies 
and  studded  with  small  hills,  little  pastures  of  excellent 
grass  nestling  between  them.  As  the  wagons  filed  down 
a  narrow  road  onto  a  pasture  fronting  on  the  Cimarron 
a  plainsman,  who  had  pushed  on  ahead  of  the  caravan 
because  he  doubted  the  seriousness  and  intelligence  of 
the  scouting  party,  was  seen  dashing  down  to  the  farther 
bank  of  the  river  and  splashing  across  it  without  check- 
ing the  speed  of  his  horse. 

One  look  at  him  was  enough  for  Woodson,  and  the 
sharp  blast  of  the  bugle  cut  the  air.  Wagoners  whipped 
their  tired  teams  into  the  best  speed  they  could  give  and 
the  clatter  and  screeching  of  the  rumbling  wagons  filled 
the  air  as  they  raced  around  into  the  circular  formation. 
The  scout  barely  had  left  the  river  and  the  wagons  still 
were  forming  when  over  the  crest  of  a  hill  across  the 
stream  appeared  a  mass  of  horsemen,  their  lances  stand- 
ing like  drunken  pickets  against  the  sky.  No  need  to 
ask  what  tribe  they  belonged  to,  for  the  hint  conveyed 
by  their  lances  soon  was  endorsed  by  their  fantastic  two- 
color  blankets,  one  half  red  and  the  other  half  blue.    Most 


222  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

of  them  wore,  in  addition  to  the  regular  attire  of  the 
plains  Indians,  a  leather  jacket,  and  from  the  heels  of 
their  moccasins  trailed  tassels,  another  mark  of  their 
tribe. 

These  warriors,  magnificent  specimens  of  manhood 
and  superb  horsemen,  appeared  to  be  gigantic  as  they 
paused  and  spread  out  along  the  crest  of  the  hill,  boldly 
outlined  against  the  bright  sky  behind  them.  They 
watched  the  running  circle  of  wagons  stop  by  jerks  as 
vehicle  after  vehicle  crowded  against  the  one  ahead  of 
it  and  came  to  a  stand,  the  teams  inside  the  corral.  They 
rode  slowly  down  the  hill,  their  numbers  constantly 
growing,  as  a  line  of  defenders  moved  out  from  the  en- 
campment to  interpose  itself  between  the  camp  and  the 
Comanche  warriors;  and  as  the  line  stopped  to  wait  for 
the  cannons  to  get  into  position  the  red  enemy  charged 
with  a  bedlam  of  whoops  and  yells.  The  two  quick  roars 
of  the  cannons  and  the  hurtling  solid  shot,  which  raised 
dust-puffs  high  up  on  the  hill,  checked  them  and  they 
spread  out  into  two  thin  lines  of  racing  horsemen  running 
toward  both  sides  of  the  encampment. 

Woodson,  glad  that  the  cannoneers  had  missed  in  their 
panicky  aim,  ordered  the  defenders  to  fall  back  to  the 
wagons,  which  they  were  only  too  glad  to  do;  but  they 
did  not  obey  his  command  to  cease  firing,  and  sent  their 
hastily  aimed  balls  in  the  general  direction  of  the  enemy. 
No  harm  was  done  by  these,  not  only  because  of  the  poor 
aim  but  also  because  the  racing  Indians  were  as  yet  well 
out  of  rifle  shot  and  were  hanging  over  on  the  far  side 
of  their  mounts. 

Tom  ran  to  the  frantically  working  cannoneers  and 
threw  himself  among  them  without  regard  to  how  he 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  CIMARRON      223 

handled  them,  shouting  for  them  not  to  fire  until  Wood- 
son gave  the  word,  and  then  to  load  with  musket  balls 
and  fire  as  fast  and  true  as  they  could.  Franklin  joined 
him,  his  face  as  black  as  a  thunder  cloud,  and  made 
threats  they  knew  he  would  carry  out  if  the  instructions 
were  not  obeyed. 

The  racing  line  drew  nearer  and  nearer,  those  of  the 
warriors  who  had  guns  discharging  them  into  the  air. 
It  looked  like  a  desperate  fight  was  only  a  few  seconds 
away  when  Hank  yelled  his  discovery.  Over  the  crest 
of  the  same  hill  appeared  the  women  and  children  of  the 
tribe,  their  dogs  dragging  burdens  on  their  small  travoises 
and  the  horses  pulling  the  dragging  lodgepoles  loaded 
down  with  the  possessions  of  their  owners.  This  meant 
peace,  for  if  war  was  intended,  all  but  the  warriors 
would  have  been  sent  away.  Some  of  the  more  quick- 
witted of  the  plainsmen  and  traders  waved  their  hats  at 
the  debouching  village  across  the  river,  and  Woodson, 
with  Tom  and  Franklin  at  his  side,  held  up.  his  hand  and 
walked  toward  the  slowing  line.  An  arrow  suddenly 
quivered  in  the  ground  almost  under  his  feet  and  he 
stopped,  raising  both  hands.  An  Indian  dashed  back 
across  the  river,  where  he  berated  a  group  of  non-com- 
batants and  waved  them  toward  the  top  of  the  hill.  The 
traveling  village  instantly  became  a  confusion  of  quick 
movement  and  climbed  the  hill  and  dipped  over  its  crest 
much  quicker  than  it  had  appeared. 

Woodson  swore  under  his  breath.  "  Reckon  we  got 
ter  fight,  boys.  Look  sharp  an'  fall  back  ter  th'  caravan. 
Drop  th'  first  brave  that  lifts  bow  an'  arrer!"  He 
glanced  back  to  see  how  far  they  had  to  go  and  glimpsed 
a  dozen  men  under  Hank  and  Zeb  coming  to  their  aid. 


224  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

— 5- 

He  raised  his  hand  to  them  and  they  instantly  dropped 
to  their  knees,  their  rifles  leaping  to  their  shoulders. 
"Now,"  he  grated.  "We're  bein*  covered;  turn  an' 
run ! "  As  the  three  men  reached  the  covering  party  they 
checked  themselves,  joined  it,  faced  the  savages,  and  the 
entire  party  fell  slowly  back  to  the  wagons. 

"  Funny  they  didn't  send  in  more'n  that  one  arrer," 
growled  Woodson,  thoroughly  puzzled.  "These  hyar 
ain't  Pawnee  hoss-stealers ;  thar  fightin'  men.  Knock 
down  that  gun!"  he  snapped  as  a  tenderfoot  rested  a 
powerful  rifle  across  a  wagon  wheel.  The  man  beside 
the  ambitious  Indian  fighter  struck  it  aside  and  the  ball 
went  into  the  ground.  "  Th'  next  man  as  pulls  trigger  till 
I  says  fer  him  to  is  goin'  to  be  d  —  d  sorry!"  cried  the 
captain,  drawing  his  pistol. 

The  running  line,  moving  back  farther  under  the 
threat  of  the  two  cannons,  gradually  stopped,  facing  the 
waiting  defenders.  It  seemed  like  the  calm  that  precedes 
a  storm.  Then  down  the  hill  across  the  river  came  a 
small  group  of  savages  more  outrageously  decked  out 
than  any  seen  so  far. 

"Th'  chiefs,"  growled  Woodson.  "Hope  we  git  out 
o'  this  without  a  fight.  Even  th'  Comanches  ain't  usually 
anxious  ter  git  inter  a  clawin'  match  with  Americans, 
though  they  air  th'  best  o'  th'  prairie  tribes." 

"  They  do  about  what  they  please  with  th'  Mexicans," 
replied  Tom ;  "  but  they've  larned  that  Americans  air  a 
different  breed,  an'  have  better  guns.  But  some  o'  thar 
raids  inter  Texas  have  puffed  'em  up.  I  don't  like  thar 
village  climbin'  back  over  that  hill." 

"  If  it's  ter  be  peace,  I'd  a  cussed  sight  ruther  have  it 
over  th'  hill  than  planted  somewhar  close  ter  us;  they'd 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  CIMARRON      225 

over-run  th'  camp  an'  friction  would  be  shore  ter  grow. 
While  mebby  they  can't  steal  as  slick  as  th'  Pawnees, 
they  kin  do  it  good  enough  ter  make  us  cross-eyed  watch- 
in'  'em.  Some  tenderfoot  shore  will  ketch  one  of  'em 
stealin'  his  belongin's  an'  start  a  fight  thar  an'  then,  with 
a  hull  passel  o'  'em  inside  th'  corral.  Wall,  we'll  soon 
find  out  what's  goin'  ter  come  of  it;  they've  jined  th' 
line." 

The  white  defenders  eagerly  watched  the  pow-wow 
being  held  to  the  southwest  of  the  encampment,  their 
rifles  balanced  for  quick  handling;  then  they  slowly  re- 
laxed and  some  rested  their  weapons  on  the  ground. 
The  consulting  group  of  warriors  split  and  from  it, 
riding  with  slow  dignity  toward  the  wagons,  came  two 
chiefs  and  two  lesser  warriors.  They  held  up  their  hands 
when  within  rifle  shot  and  stopped.  Woodson,  Tom, 
Franklin,  and  Haviland,  mounted  this  time,  rode  with 
the  same  slow  dignity  out  to  meet  them.  Franklin  could 
speak  their  tongue  well  enough  to  make  himself  under- 
stood, and  Woodson  and  Tom  knew  the  universal  sign 
language  well  enough  to  express  themselves  in  it.  As 
they  left  the  camp  they  caught  a  glimpse  of  another  band 
of  warriors  riding  around  the  upper  end  of  the  hill  and 
roughly  estimated  the  combined  force  to  be  close  to  five 
hundred.  Here  was  good  reason  to  be  as  tactful  as  pos- 
sible. When  within  speaking  distance  of  the  Comanche 
envoys  they  drew  up  and  the  two  groups  eyed  each  other 
in  silence  for  several  minutes. 

"  Our  village  on  the  Washita  is  no  more,"  said  a  chief 
who  had  enough  long  hair  to  supply  any  hirsute  deficiency 
of  a  dozen  men  and  not  suffer  by  it.  "  Its  ashes  are 
blown  by  the  winds  and  its  smoke  brings  tears  to  the 


226 ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

eyes  of  our  squaws  and  children.  Our  winter  maize  is 
gone  and  our  storehouses  He  about  the  ground.  White 
Buffalo  and  his  braves  were  hunting  the  buffalo  beyond 
the  Cimarron.  Their  old  men  and  their  squaws  and 
children  were  with  them.  Some  of  my  young  men  have 
just  returned  and  brought  us  this  news.  What  have  the 
white  men  to  say  of  this?  " 

"  Our  hearts  are  heavy  for  our  friends  the  Comanches," 
answered  Woodson.  "There  are  many  tribes  of  white 
men,  as  there  are  many  tribes  of  Indians.  There  are  the 
Americanos,  the  Mexicanos,  the  Englise,  and  the  Tejanos. 
The  Americans  come  from  the  North  and  the  East  along 
their  great  trail,  with  goods  to  trade  and  with  friendship 
for  the  Comanches.  The  Mexicanos  would  not  dare  to 
burn  a  Comanche  village;  but  with  the  Tejanos  are  not 
the  Comanches  at  war?  And  we  have  seen  Tejanos  near 
the  trail.  We  have  seen  where  they  defeated  Armijo's 
soldiers,  almost  within  sight  of  the  Arkansas  River. 
Cannot  White  Buffalo  read  the  signs  on  the  earth  ?  Our 
trail  is  plain  for  many  days  to  the  east,  for  all  to  see. 
Has  he  seen  our  wagon  tracks  to  the  Washita?  Are  his 
young  men  blind?  We  are  many  and  strong  and  have 
thunder  guns,  but  we  do  not  fight  except  to  protect  our- 
selves and  our  goods.    We  are  traders." 

"We  are  warriors!"  exclaimed  the  chief.  "We  also 
are  many  and  strong,  and  our  lances  are  short  that  our 
courage  may  be  long.  White  Buffalo  has  listened.  He 
believes  that  the  white  chief  speaks  with  a  single  tongue. 
His  warriors  want  the  white  man's  guns  and  powder; 
medicine  guns  that  shoot  like  the  clapping  of  hands. 
Such  have  the  Tejanos.  He  has  skins  and  meat  and 
miUos" 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  CIMARRON      227 

"The  medicine  guns  are  Tejano  medicine,"  replied 
Woodson.  "  We  have  only  such  as  I  see  in  the  hands  of 
some  of  our  friends,  the  Comanches.  Powder  and  lead 
we  have  little,  for  we  have  come  far  and  killed  much 
j^ame;  blue  and  red  cloth  we  have,  medicine  glasses, 
beads,  awls,  knives,  tobacco,  and  firewater  we  have  much 
of.  Our  mules  are  strong  and  we  need  no  more."  He 
looked  shrewdly  at  a  much-bedecked  Indian  at  the  chief's 
side.  "We  have  presents  for  the  Comanche  Medicine 
Man  that  only  his  eyes  may  see." 

The  medicine  man's  face  did  not  change  a  muscle  but 
there  came  a  gleam  to  his  eyes  that  Woodson  noted. 

"The  Comanches  are  not  like  the  Pawnees  or  Chey- 
ennes  to  kill  their  eyes  and  ears  with  firewater,"  retorted 
the  chief.  "  We  are  not  Pawnee  dogs  that  we  must  hide 
from  ourselves  and  see  things  that  are  not.  Our  hair  is 
long,  that  those  may  take  it  who  can.     I  have  spoken." 

There  was  some  further  talk  in  which  was  arranged  a 
visit  from  the  Comanche  chief;  the  bartering  price  of 
mules,  skins,  and  meat,  as  was  the  custom  of  this  tribe; 
a  long-winded  exchange  of  compliments  and  assurances 
of  love  and  good  will,  in  the  latter  both  sides  making 
plenty  of  reservations. 

When  Woodson  and  his  companions  returned  to  the 
encampment  they  went  among  the  members  of  the  cara- 
van with  explicit  instructions,  hoping  by  the  use  of  tact 
and  common  sense  to  avert  friction  with  their  expected 
visitors.  Small  articles  were  put  away  and  the  wagon 
covers  tightly  drawn  to  minimize  the  opportunities  of  the 
Indians  for  theft. 

The  night  passed  quietly  and  the  doubled  guard  appar- 
ently was  wasted.     Shortly  after  daylight  the  opposite 


228 "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

hill  suddenly  swarmed  with  dashing  warriors,  whose 
horsemanship  was  a  revelation  to  some  of  the  tenderfeet. 
Following  the  warriors  came  the  non-combatants  of  the 
tribe,  pouring  down  the  slope  in  noisy  confusion.  Wood- 
son swore  under  his  breath  as  he  saw  the  moving  village 
enter  the  shallow  waters  of  the  river  to  camp  on  the  same 
side  with  the  caravan,  for  it  seemed  that  his  flowery 
assurances  of  love  and  esteem  had  been  taken  at  their 
face  value;  but  he  was  too  wise  to  credit  this,  knowing 
that  Indians  were  quick  to  take  advantage  of  any  excuse 
that  furthered  their  ends.  The  closer  together  the  two 
camps  were  the  more  easily  could  the  Indians  over-run 
the  corralled  traders. 

Reaching  the  encampment's  side  of  the  stream  the 
lodges  were  erected  with  most  praiseworthy  speed,  laid 
out  in  rows,  and  the  work  finished  in  a  remarkably  short 
time.  The  conical  lodges  averaged  more  than  a  dozen 
feet  in  diameter  and  some  of  them,  notably  that  of  the 
chief,  were  somewhere  near  twice  that  size. 

In  the  middle  of  the  morning  the  chiefs  and  the  more 
important  warriors  paid  their  visit  to  the  corral  and  were 
at  once  put  in  good  spirits  by  a  salute  from  the  cannons, 
a  passing  of  the  red-stone  pipes,  and  by  receiving  pres- 
ents of  tobacco  and  trade  goods.  While  they  sat  on  the 
ground  before  Woodson's  wagon  and  smoked,  the  medi- 
cine man  seemed  restless  and  finally  arose  to  wander 
about.  He  bumped  into  Tom  Boyd,  who  had  been  waiting 
to  see  him  alone,  and  was  quickly  led  to  Franklin's  wagon 
where  the  owner,  hiding  his  laughter,  was  waiting.  It 
is  well  to  have  the  good  will  of  the  chiefs,  but  it  is  better 
also  to  have  that  of  the  medicine  man;  and  wily  Hank 
Marshall  never  overlooked  that  end  of   it  when  on  a 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  CIMARRON      229 

trading  expedition  among  the  Indians.  He  had  let  Wood- 
son into  his  secret  before  the  parley  of  the  day  before, 
and  now  his  scheme  was  about  to  bear  fruit. 

Franklin  made  some  mysterious  passes  over  a  little  pile 
of  goods  which  was  covered  with  a  gaudy  red  cloth  on 
which  had  been  fastened  some  beads  and  tinsel;  and  as 
he  did  so,  both  Tom  and  Hank  knelt  and  bowed  their 
heads.  Franklin  stepped  back  as  if  fearful  of  instant 
destruction,  and  then  turned  to  the  medicine  man,  who 
had  overlooked  nothing,  with  an  expression  of  reverent 
awe  on  his  face. 

For  the  next  few  minutes  Franklin  did  very  well,  con- 
sidering that  he  knew  very  little  of  what  he  was  talking 
about,  but  he  managed  to  convey  the  information  that 
under  the  red  cloth  was  great  medicine,  found  near  the 
"Thunderer's  Nest,"  not  far  from  the  great  and  sacred 
red  pipestone  quarry  of  the  far  north.  The  mention  of 
this  Mecca  of  the  Indians,  sacred  in  almost  every  system 
of  Indian  mythology,  made  a  great  impression  on  the 
medicine  man  and  it  was  all  he  could  do  to  keep  his 
avaricious  fingers  off  the  cloth  and  wait  until  Franklin's 
discourse  was  finished.  The  orator  wound  up  almost  in 
a  whisper. ' 

*'  Here  is  a  sour  water  that  has  the  power  to  foretell 
peace  or  war,"  he  declaimed,  tragically.  "  There  are  two 
powders,  found  by  the  chief  of  the  Hurons,  under  the 
very  nest  of  the  Thunder  Bird.  They  look  alike,  yet 
they  are  different.  One  has  no  taste  and  if  it  is  put  into 
some  of  the  sour  water  the  water  sleeps  and  tells  of 
peace;  but  if  the  other,  which  has  a  taste,  is  put  in  the 
medicine  water,  the  water  boils  and  cries  for  war.  It 
is  powerful  medicine  and  always  works." 


230  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

The  eyes  of  the  red  fakir  gleamed,  for  with  him  often 
lay  the  decision  as  to  peace  or  war,  and  in  this  respect 
his  power  was  greater  even  than  that  of  a  chief.  After  a 
short  demonstration  with  the  water,  to  which  had  been 
added  a  few  drops  of  acid,  the  two  powders,  one  of  which 
was  soda,  were  tested  out.  The  medicine  man  sHpped  his 
presents  under  his  robe,  placed  his  fingers  on  his  lips  and 
strode  away.  When  the  next  Comanche  w^ar-council  was 
held  he  would  be  a  dominating  figure,  and  the  fame  of 
his  medicine  would  spread  far  and  wide  over  the  Indian 
country, 

"  Got  him,  body  an'  soul !  '*  chuckled  Franklin,  rubbing 
his  hands.  "  Did  ye  see  his  mean  ol'  eyes  near  pop  out 
when  she  fizzed?  He  saw  all  th'  rest  o'  th*  stuff  an' 
he  won't  rest  till  he  gits  it  all ;  an'  he  won't  git  it  all  till 
his  tribe  or  us  has  left.  He  plumb  likes  th'  fizz  combina- 
tion, an'  mebby  would  want  to  try  it  out  hyar  an'  now. 
Thar  won't  be  no  trouble  with  these  Injuns  this  trip." 

"  An'  that  thar  black  sand  ye  gave  him,"  laughed  Hank, 
leaning  back  against  a  wagon  wheel,  "  that  looks  like 
powder,  so  he  kin  make  his  spell  over  real  powder,  slip 
th'  sand  in  its  place,  an'  show  how  his  medicine  will  fix 
th'  powder  of  thar  enemies  so  it  w^on't  touch  off!  Did 
ye  see  th'  grin  on  his  leather  face,  when  he  savvied  that  ? 
He's  a  wise  ol'  fakir,  heisV 

Tom  grinned  at  Franklin.  "  Hank,  here,  has  got  th' 
medicine  men  o'  th'  Piegan  Blackfeet  eatin'  out  o'  his 
hand.  Every  time  th'  Crows  git  after  him  too  danged 
hot  he  heads  fer  th'  Blackfoot  country.  They  only  fol- 
lered  him  thar  onct.    What  all  did  ye  give  'em.  Hank  ?  " 

"  Oh,  lots  o'  little  things,"  chuckled  Hank,  reminis- 
cently.   "  Th'  medicine  men  o'  th'  Blackfeet  air  th'  great- 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  CIMARRON      231 

est  in  th'  world;  thar  ain't  no  others  kin  come  within  a 
mile  o'  'em,  thanks  ter  me  an'  a  chemist  I  know  back  in 
St.  Louie.    Th'  other  traders  alius  git  what  I  leave.'* 

When  the  important  Indian  visitors  left  there  was 
quite  a  little  ceremony,  and  the  camp  was  quiet  until 
after  the  noon  meal.  Early  in  the  afternoon,  according 
to  the  agreement  with  the  chief  and  the  medicine  man, 
the  Indians  visited  the  encampment  in  squads,  and  at  no 
time  was  there  more  than  thirty  or  forty  savages  in  the 
encampment  at  once.  Instead  of  the  usual  attempted 
stampede  of  the  animals  at  night  all  was  peaceful;  and 
instead  of  having  to  remain  for  two  or  three  days  in 
camp,  at  all  times  in  danger  of  a  change  in  the  mood  of 
the  savages,  the  caravan  was  permitted  to  leave  on  the 
following  morning,  which  miracle  threw  Woodson  into 
more  or  less  of  a  daze.  As  the  last  wagon  rounded  a 
hillock  several  miles  from  the  camp  site  a  mounted  Co- 
manche rode  out  of  the  brush  and  went  along  the  column 
until  he  espied  Franklin;  and  a  few  moments  later 
he  rode  into  the  brush  again,  a  bulging  red  cloth  bundle 
stowed  under  his  highly  ornamented  robe. 

But  there  was  more  than  the  desire  to  trade,  the  pro- 
fessed friendship  and  the  bribery  of  the  medicine  man 
that  operated  for  peace  in  the  minds  of  the  Comanches. 
Never  so  early  in  the  history  of  the  trail  had  they  attacked 
any  caravan  as  large  as  this  one  and  got  the  best  of  the 
fight.  In  all  the  early  years  of  the  trail  the  white  men 
killed  in  such  encounters  under  such  conditions,  could 
be  counted  on  the  fingers  of  one  hand;  while  the  Indian 
losses  had  been  considerable.  With  all  their  vaunted 
courage  the  Comanches  early  had  learned  the  difference 
between  Americans  and  Mexicans,  and   most   of   their 


232  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

attempts  against  large  caravans  had  been  more  for  the 
purpose  of  stampeding  the  animals  than  for  fighting,  and 
their  efforts  mostly  had  been  *'  full  of  sound  and  fury," 
like  Macbeth's  idiot's  tale,  and  signified  nothing.  Still, 
the  caravan  breathed  easier  as  mile  after  mile  took  it 
away  from  that  encampment;  but  their  escape  was  not 
regarded  so  seriously  as  to  make  them  pass  Middle 
Spring,  where  good  water  always  could  be  found,  and 
here  they  corralled. 

Tom  and  his  friends  had  grown  more  alert  since  leav- 
ing the  Arkansas,  and  without  showing  it  had  kept  a  close 
watch  over  Pedro  and  his  companions.  The  actions  of 
these  and  of  a  few  Americans,  Franklin  among  the  lat- 
ter, seemed  to  merit  scrutiny.  A  subtle  change  was  taking 
place  in  them.  Franklin  spent  more  of  his  time  near  Tom 
and  Hank,  and  Pedro  and  some  of  the  Mexicans  were 
showing  a  veiled  elation  tinged  with  anxiety.  Wherever 
Tom  went  he  was  watched,  and  if  he  joined  the  advance 
guard,  or  the  rear  guard,  or  the  flanking  parties,  Frank- 
lin was  certain  to  show  up.  He  seemed  to  have  taken  a 
belated  but  strong  fancy  to  the  young  plainsman.  When 
Hank  and  Tom  took  the  packs  from  the  backs  of  their 
mules  at  night  not  a  move  they  made  was  missed;  and 
they  soon  learned  that  quite  a  few  of  the  Mexicans  were 
sleeping  in  the  wagons  of  friends  during  the  morning 
traveling. 

It  was  here  at  Middle  Spring  where  Tom  and  Jim 
Ogden  staged  a  serious  disagreement,  which  spread  to  one 
between  Hank  Marshall  and  Zeb  Houghton,  and  resulted 
in  the  two  sets  of  partners  becoming  estranged.  When 
questioned  about  it  in  indirect  ways  by  Franklin,  Ogden 
sullenly  said  that  he  could  handle  his  troubles  without 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  CIMARRON      23^ 

the  aid  of  others,  and  would  handle  them  "  danged  quick" 
if  a  certain  plainsman  didn't  look  out.  Zeb  was  not  so 
cautious  and  his  remarks,  vague  as  they  were,  were  plain 
enough  to  bring  fleeting  smiles  to  the  faces  of  Pedro  and 
his  friends. 

The  grass  was  better  here  than  at  any  place  since  the 
Arkansas  had  been  left  and  as  some  of  the  animals  were 
beginning  to  show  unmistakable  signs  of  the  long  jour- 
ney, it  was  decided  to  remain  here  another  night  and 
give  them  a  chance  to  recuperate  a  little.  The  news  was 
hailed  joyfully  and  numerous  hunting  parties  were  ar- 
ranged at  the  fires  the  first  night.  Woodson  called  for 
volunteers  to  form  a  strong  day  guard  for  the  animals, 
which  he  wanted  driven  from  the  camp  to  graze  over  the 
best  grass,  and  he  asked  for  another  strong  guard  to 
watch  the  corral,  since  Comanches,  Pawnee  Picts, 
Kiowas,  and  even  more  northern  tribes  out  on  horse- 
stealing expeditions  could  be  looked  for  without  unduly 
straining  the  imagination.  Arapahoes,  Utes,  and  even 
Cheyennes  were  not  strangers  to  the  valley  of  the  Cim- 
arron, and  once  in  a  while  Apache  raiders  paid  it  flying 
visits. 

Woodson  made  the  round  of  the  fires,  trying  to  dis- 
courage the  formation  of  so  many  small  hunting  parties 
while  the  caravan  was  corralled  in  such  broken  and  dan- 
gerous country,  and  succeeded  in  reducing  the  numbers 
of  the  hunters  about  half  and  in  consolidating  them  into 
two  large  parties,  capable  of  offering  some  sort  of  resist- 
ance to  an  Indian  attack.  One  of  these  he  put  under  the 
command  of  Hank,  to  that  person's  great  disgust,  for 
Hank  had  planned  to  go  on  a  hunt  with  his  partner,  and 
to  join  Ogden  and  Houghton  when  well  away  from  the 


234  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

camp.  Tom  was  to  remain  with  the  wagons ;  Ogden  was 
to  have  charge  of  the  other  hunting  party,  and  Houghton 
and  Franklin  were  to  stay  near  the  grazing  herd. 

The  fires  dimmed  here  and  there  as  their  builders 
forsook  them  for  blankets;  others  glowed  brilliantly, 
among  them  the  fire  of  Tom  and  Hank.  The  former  had 
said  good  night  to  Joe  Cooper  and  Patience  and  was 
walking  toward  his  fire  when  Pedro  silently  joined  him 
and  went  along  with  him.  Hank  was  off  entertaining  a 
party  of  tenderfeet  with  tales  of  miraculous  adventures 
in  the  mountains,  and  after  lying  to  the  best  of  his  ability 
for  two  hours,  and  hardly  being  questioned,  he  described 
a  wonderful  country  lying  east  of  Henry's  Fork  of  the 
Snake  River;  south  of  the  Snow  Mountains;  north  of 
Jackson's  Lake  and  west  of  the  Shoshones  Mountains. 
It  lay  along  the  Yellowstone  River  and  the  headwaters 
of  the  Stinking  Water,  and  it  contained  all  manner  of 
natural  wonders,  which  he  described  earnestly  and  graph- 
ically, to  bursts  of  laughter.  The  more  earnest  he  became 
the  more  his  auditors  roared  and  finally  he  got  to  his 
feet,  glared  around  the  circle,  declared  he  was  not  going 
to  "eddicate  airy  passel  o'  danged  fools,"  and  stalked 
away  in  high  dudgeon,  muttering  fiercely.  Reaching  his 
own  fire  he  threw  himself  down  by  it  and  glared  at  the 
glowing  embers  as  if  he  held  them  responsible. 

Tom  nudged  Pedro.  "  Somebody  ask  ye  fer  a  left- 
hand  wipin'  stick,  Hank?"  he  asked. 

"Thar  a  passel  o'  fools!"  snorted  Hank.  "If  boss 
sense  war  ten  paces  wide  an*  ten  miles  long  in  every  man, 
ye  couldn't  collect  enough  o'  it  in  th'  whole  danged  party 
fer  ter  make  an  ear  tab  fer  a  buffaler  gnat ! " 

"  Tellin*  *em  about  that  thar  river  ye  saw  that  couldn't 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  CIMARRON      235 

find  no  way  outer  th'  valley,  an'  finally  had  ter  flow  up 
over  a  mounting?" 

"  Ye  mean  them  up-side-down  water  falls  ?  "  queried 
Hank,  grinning.  "Yes,  an'  some  o'  *em  come  clost  ter 
swallerin'  it.  Why,  I  sot  thar  an'  filled  'em  plumb  ter 
th'  ears  with  lies  an'  they  didn't  hardly  wink  an  eye. 
Then  I  told  'em  o'  that  valley  on  th'  Yallerstun,  whar  th' 
Injuns  won't  go  because  they  figger  it's  th'  home  o' 
th'  Devil.  An'  th'  more  I  told  'em  about  it,  th'  more  th' 
danged  fools  laughed !  I'd  like  ter  hold  'em  over  one  o' 
them  thar  water-squirts,  or  push  'em  down  into  th' 
bilin'  mud  pots !  Swallered  th'  lies,  dang  'em,  an'  spit  out 
th'  truth!" 

Tom  roared  and  after  a  moment  looked  curiously  at 
his  partner.  "I  thought  ye  said  you'd  never  tell  nobody 
about  that  country  ag'in  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  felt  so  danged  sorry  fer  thar  ignorance  that  I 
reckoned  I'd  eddicate  'em,  th'  dumb  fools!  If  I  had  a 
ox  an'  it  didn't  know  more'n  them  all  put  together, 
danged  if  I  wouldn't  shoot  it!"  He  sliced  off  a  pipeful 
of  tobacco  and  pulled  an  ember  from  the  fire.  "What 
you  an'  Pedro  been  hatchin'  out?" 

"  Nothin',  yit,"  answered  Tom ;  "  but  I  would  like  ter 
hear  a  little  more  'bout  that  thar  roundabout  trail  inter 
Santa  Fe."  He  looked  at  Pedro.  "  How  fur  away  from 
hyar  does  it  begin  ?  " 

"Not  so  ver'  far,  senor,"  answered  the  Mexican. 
"Thees  way  from  thee  Upper  Spr-ring,  where  thee 
soldats  are  used  to  meet  thee  car-ravan.  We  come  to  eet 
soon.    We  should  leeve  thees  camp  tomor-row  night." 

"  What's  th'  use  o'  that  when  ye  said  th'  soldiers  ain't 
goin'  ter  meet  us  this  year?"  demanded  Tom. 


236  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

"Why  don't  they  meet  th'  trains  whar  they  oughter, 
'stead  o'  waitin'  till  they  git  past  th'  Injun  dangers?" 
demanded  Hank  with  some  feeling. 

"Does  not  thee  senor  know?"  chuckled  Pedro.  "Eet 
ees  not  for  protec'  thee  car-ravan  that  they  meet  eet. 
Eet  ees  that  no  man  may  leave  thee  tr-rail  an*  smuggle 
hees  goods  past  thee  customs.  For  what  does  Manuel 
Armijo  care  for  protec'  thee  traders?  Eef  he  deed, 
would  he  not  meet  them  at  thee  Arkansas  ?  Eet  ees  only 
for  thee  customs  that  he  sends  thee  soldats.  To  get  away 
fr-rom  theese  we  mus'  tak  thee  other  tr-rail  befo'  eet 
ees  too  late." 

"  That's  all  right  fer  other  years,"  growled  Tom ;  "  but 
if  they  ain't  goin'  ter  meet  us  this  time  we  kin  stick  ter 
th'  trail  an'  leave  it  a  lot  closer  ter  Santer  Fe." 

Pedro  was  doing  his  best  to  play  safe  from  all  angles. 
If  the  troops  tried  to  take  Tom  Boyd  from  the  caravan, 
or  show  that  he  was  a  prisoner,  a  great  deal  of  trouble 
might  come  out  of  it,  for  these  Americans  were  devils 
for  sticking  together.  If  that  fear  were  groundless,  then 
Tom  Boyd  and  his  trapper  friends,  on  sight  of  the  troops, 
might  cut  and  run;  and  if  forced  to  stand  and  fight  they 
could  be  counted  on  to  give  a  good  account  of  themselves 
against  the  poorer  arms  of  their  Mexican  enemies;  and 
somewhere  in  the  hills  he  thought  there  were  Texans 
and  he  knew  them  well  enough  to  know  that  they  would 
only  be  too  glad  to  take  a  hand  in  any  fight  against  Mex- 
icans if  they  learned  of  it  in  time.  At  first  he  had  been 
content  to  get  Tom  Boyd  to  the  Upper  Spring  or  to  Cold 
Spring,  only  a  few  miles  farther  on,  and  there  turn  his 
responsibility  over  to  the  commander  of  the  troops.  If 
he  could  get  them  to  slip  away  from  their  friends  and 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  CIMARRON      237 

be  captured  out  of  sight  and  hearing  of  the  caravan  it 
would  suit  him  much  better;  and  if  he  could  coax  them 
to  take  their  goods  with  them,  he  and  his  friends  could 
divide  the  spoils  and  slip  the  plunder  past  the  customs 
officers.  The  caravan  was  now  within  fifty  miles  of  Cold 
Spring  and  he  must  make  up  his  mind  and  act  quickly. 

"Eet  ees  then  you  weesh  to  pay  thee  char-rges?"  the 
Mexican  asked,  raising  his  eyebrows. 

"No!"  growled  Hank.  "They  air  a  robbery,  plain 
an'  simple." 

**  No ! "  said  Tom,  who  was  giving  but  little  thought 
to  the  customs  duties,  but  a  great  deal  to  his  own  per- 
sonal freedom.  He  did  not  want  to  meet  any  kind  of 
officers,  customs  or  otherwise.  He  would  have  jumped 
at  a  secret  trail  into  the  settlements  had  he  not  known 
so  much  about  Pedro.  "At  th'  same  time  I  ain't  han- 
kerin'  fer  ter  leave  th'  caravan  so  soon.  We're  nigh 
three  hundred  miles  from  Sante  Fe,  an'  thar  ain't  no  way 
we  kin  go  that'll  cut  off  ten  miles.  This  wagon  road 
runs  nigh  as  straight  as  th'  crow  flies.  What  about  grass 
fer  th'  mules,  an'  water?" 

"  Ah,"  breathed  Pedro.  "  We  weel  not  go  to  Santa  Fe, 
senor ;  we  go  near  Taos,  less  than  two  hundred  mile  away 
from  here.  Along  thee  Ocate  Cr-reek  I  haf  fr-riends  who 
know  ver'  well  thee  mountains.  They  weel  tak  us  over 
them.  How  can  thee  senores  sell  their  goods  onless  by 
ways  that  ar-re  made?  Weeth  us  we  haf  men  that  know 
that  tr-rail.  We  weel  send  one  befor-re  to  thee  Ocate, 
an'  follow  heem  fast." 

Tom  studied  the  fire  for  a  few  moments  and  then 
looked  up  at  his  guest."  "We  want  ter  think  this  over, 
Pedro,"  he  said.    "  You  figger  what  per  cent  o'  th'  cus- 


238  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

toms  savings  you  want  fer  yer  share,  an'  we'll  decide 
tomorrow  night.  Hank,  here,  wants  ter  go  ter  Bent's 
an'  reckons  we  kin  git  a  good  price  thar  fer  our  goods. 
Let  you  know  then.    Good  night." 

After  Pedro  had  painted  the  picture  of  the  innocent- 
looking  loads  of  faggots  and  sheepskins,  hay  and  pro- 
duce, towering  over  the  backs  of  the  nearly  hidden  pack 
mules  as  they  toiled  through  the  canon  and  over  the  rough 
trail  leading  from  the  Valley  of  Taos  into  Santa  Fe,  their 
loads  passing  the  customs  house  without  drawing  even 
a  careless  glance  and  then,  by  many  turnings,  safely 
arriving  at  various  destinations  with  their  smuggled 
goods;  after  he  had  described  the  care  and  foresight  of 
his  friends  and  their  trustworthiness,  and  made  many 
knowing  bows  and  grimaces,  he  smilingly  departed  and 
left  the  partners  to  themselves. 

Knowing  that  they  were  being  watched  they  idled 
before  the  fire,  careless  now  of  their  store  of  wood,  of 
which  plenty  was  at  hand,  and  talked  at  random;  but 
through  the  droning  of  their  careless  words  many  times 
there  could  be  heard  the  name  "Bent's  Fort,"  which 
Hank  mentioned  with  affectionate  inflections.  It  seemed 
that  he  very  strongly  preferred  to  go  to  that  great  trading 
post  and  rendezvous  of  hunters  and  trappers,  where  old 
friends  would  be  met  and  new  ones  made.  Tom  held  out 
for  Santa  Fe,  but  did  not  show  much  enthusiasm.  Finally 
they  rolled  up  in  their  blankets,  feet  toward  the  fire  and 
heads  close  together  and  simulated  sleep.  Half  an  hour 
later  they  were  holding  a  whispered  conversation  which 
was  pitched  so  low  they  barely  could  hear  each  other. 


CHAPTER  XV 

TEXAN   SCOUTS 

THE  day  broke  clear  and  the  usual  excitement 
and  bustle  of  the  camp  was  increased  by  the 
eager  activities  of  the  two  hunting  parties.  After 
the  morning  meal  the  animals  were  driven  some  dis- 
tance from  the  camp  and  the  herd  guards  began  their 
day's  vigil.  Tom  placed  the  outposts  and  returned 
to  report  to  the  captain,  and  then  added  that  he  had 
something  of  a  very  confidential  nature  to  tell  him, 
but  did  not  want  to  be  seen  talking  too  long  with 
him. 

Woodson  reflected  a  moment.  "All  right;  I'll  come 
after  ye  in  a  few  minutes  an'  ask  ye  ter  go  huntin' 
with  me.  'Twon't  be  onusual  if  we  ketch  th'  fever, 
too." 

Tom  nodded  and  went  over  to  Cooper's  wagons 
to  pay  his  morning's  respects,  and  to  his  chagrin 
found  that  Patience  had  gone  for  a  short  ride  with 
Doctor  Whiting  and  his  friends. 

"Sorry  to  miss  her,  Uncle  Joe,"  he  said.  "Things 
are  going  to  happen  fast  for  me  from  now  on.  I 
may  leave  the  caravan  tonight.  About  two  days'  more 
travel  and  we'll  be  south  of  Bent's.  Hank  and  I  don't 
want  to  lose  our  merchandise,  we  can't  take  it  with 
us,  and  we  need  to  turn  it  into  money.  How  much 
can  you  carry  from  here  on  ?  " 

239 


240  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

Uncle  Joe  scratched  his  head.  "The  two  big 
wagons  can  take  five  hundred-weight  more  apiece, 
and  this  wagon  can  stand  near  eight  hundred,  seein' 
that  it  ain't  carryin'  much  more  than  our  personal 
belongings.  Don't  worry,  Tom;  if  I  can't  handle  it 
all,  Alonzo  and  Enoch  can  take  th'  balance.  Them 
greasers  showing  their  cards?" 

"It's  like  this:  According  to  those  Texans  we 
met,  no  troops  are  going  to  meet  us  this  trip.  Their 
advance  guard  got  thrashed  and  Armijo  and  the  main 
body  turned  tail  at  Cold  Spring  and  fled  back  to 
Santa  Fe.  I  could  go  with  the  caravan  miles  farther 
and  probably  be  safe;  but  if  Pedro  gets  a  messenger 
away  secretly  there  is  no  telling  what  may  happen. 
If  I  stay  with  the  caravan  and  put  up  a  fight  it  might 
end  in  embroiling  a  lot  of  the  boys  and  certainly 
would  make  trouble  for  them  if  the  train  pushed  on 
to  Santa  Fe,  and  it's  got  to  push  on.  I  won't  sur- 
render meekly.     So,  you  see,  I'll  have  to  strike  out." 

Uncle  Joe  nodded.  "  If  it  wasn't  for  Patience,  and 
my  brother  in  Santa  Fe,  I'd  strike  out  with  you. 
Goin'  to  Bent's?" 

"Bent's  nothing!"  retorted  Tom.  "I'm  going  to 
Santa  Fe,  but  I'm  going  a  way  of  my  own." 

"It's  suicide,  Tom,"  warned  his  friend.  "Better 
let  me  take  in  your  stuff,  an'  meet  us  here  on  the 
way  back.  Patience  won't  spoil ;  an'  when  she  learns 
how  much  you're  wanted  by  Armijo  she'll  worry  her- 
self sick  if  she  knows  you  are  in  th'  city.  Don't  you 
doit!" 

Tom  scowled  at  a  break  in  the  hills  and  in  his 
mind's  eye  he  could  see  her  riding  gaily  with  his 


TEXAN  SCOUTS 241 

tenderfoot  rivals.  "  Reckon  she  won't  fall  away,"  he 
growled.  "Anyhow,  there's  no  telling;  an'  there's  no 
reason  why  she  should  know  anything.  I  told  her 
I  was  goin'  to  Santa  Fe,  an'  I'm  going!" 

Uncle  Joe  was  about  to  retort  but  thought  better 
of  it  and  smiled  instead.  "  Oh,  these  jealous  lovers ! " 
he  chuckled.  "  Blind  as  bats !  Who  do  you  know 
there,  in  case  I  want  to  get  word  to  you?" 

Tom  swiftly  named  three  men  and  told  where  they 
could  be  found,  his  companion  nodding  sharply  at  the 
mention  of  two  of  them. 

"Good!"  exclaimed  the  trader.  "Throw  your 
packs  into  my  wagons  an'  I'll  see  to  stowin'  'em." 

"  No,"  replied  Tom.  "  That's  got  to  be  done  when 
th'  camp's  asleep.  I'm  supposed  to  be  takin'  'em  with 
me. 

"  But  these  Mexicans'll  trail  you,  an'  get  you  when 
you're  asleep,"  objected  Uncle  Joe. 

,Tom  laughed  and  shook  his  head,  and  turned  to 
face  Woodson,  who  was  walking  toward  them.  "Th' 
captain  an'  I  am  goin'  huntin'.    See  you  later." 

"Git  yer  boss,  Boyd,"  called  the  captain.  'Tm 
goin'  fer  mine  now.    How  air  ye,  Mr.  Cooper?" 

"  Never  felt  better  in  my  life,  captain.  We  all  owe 
you  a  vote  of  thanks,  an'  I'll  see  that  you  get  it." 

"Thar  ain't  a  man  livin'  as  kin  git  a  vote  o'  thanks 
fer  me  out  o'  this  caravan,"  laughed  Woodson,  his 
eyes  twinkling.  "  But  I  ain't  got  no  call  ter  kick :  I 
ain't  had  nigh  th'  trouble  I  figgered  on.  Jest  th'  same, 
I'll  be  glad  when  we  meet  up  with  th'  greaser  troops 
at  Cold  Spring.  I  aim  to  leave  ye  thar  an'  go  on  ahead 
an'  fix  things  in  th'  city." 


242  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

Uncle  Joe  caught  himself  in  time.  "That's  where 
we  bust  up?" 

Woodson  nodded.  "Thar  ain*t  no  organization 
from  thar  in.  Don't  need  it,  with  th'  sojers.  All  us 
proprietors  that  ain't  got  reg'lar  connections  in  th' 
city  will  be  leavin'  from  Cold  Spring  on." 

"Any  danger  from  th'  Injuns,  leavin'  that  way?" 

"Oh,  we  slip  out  at  night,"  answered  Woodson. 
"Thar  ain't  much  danger  from  any  big  bands.  Got 
ter  do  it;  customs  officers  air  like  axles;  they  work 
better  arter  they  air  greased.  I  aim  ter  leave  two 
waggins  behind  th'  noon  arter  we  git  to  th'  Upper 
Spring,  an'  save  five  hundred  apiece  on  'em.  Th* 
other  six  kin  make  it  from  thar  with  th'  extry  loads, 
an'  th'  extry  animals  to  help  pull  'em."  He  looked 
toward  the  wagons  of  Alonzo  and  Enoch,  where  Tom 
had  tarried  on  his  way  back.  "Thar's  a  fine,  up- 
standin'  young  man;  I've  had  my  eye  on  him  ever 
since  we  left  th'  Grove." 

"He  is;  an'  anythin*  he  tells  you  is  gospel,"  said 
Uncle  Joe. 

They  saw  the  two  traders  waving  their  arms  and 
soon  Tom  hurried  up. 

"Alonzo  an'  Enoch  would  like  to  go  with  us,  only 
thar  bosses  air  with  th'  herd,"  he  said. 

"Then  we'll  go  afoot,"  declared  Woodson.  "I  ain't 
hankerin'  so  much  fer  a  hunt  as  I  air  ter  git  away 
from  these  danged  waggins  fer  a  spell.  I'm  sick  o' 
th'  sight  o'  'em.     Better  come  along,  Mr.  Cooper." 

"That  depends  on  how  fur  yer  goin';  this  young 
scamp  will  walk  me  ofT  my  feet." 

"  Oh,  jest  aways  around  th'  hills;  dassn't  go  too  fur, 


TEXAN  SCOUTS  243 

on  account  of  airy  Injuns  that  may  be  hangin'  'round." 

In  a  few  moments  the  little  group  had  left  the 
encampment  behind  and  out  of  sight  and  Woodson, 
waving  the  others  ahead,  fell  back  to  Tom's  side. 

"  Hyar  we  air,  with  nobody  ter  listen.  What  ye 
want  ter  tell  me?" 

To  the  captain's  growing  astonishment  Tom  rapidly 
sketched  his  conversation  with  the  two  Texans,  his 
affair  with  the  despotic  New  Mexican  governor  and 
what  it  now  meant  to  him.  Then  he  told  of  his 
determination  to  leave  the  caravan  some  night  soon, 
perhaps  on  this  night. 

"Wall,  dang  my  eyes!"  exclaimed  Woodson  at 
the  conclusion  of  the  narrative.  "  Good  fer  them 
Texans!  Young  man,  which  hand  did  ye  hit  him 
with?  That  un?  Wall,  I'll  jest  shake  it,  fer  luck." 
He  thought  a  moment.  "Ye  air  lucky,  Boyd;  north 
o*  here,  acrost  th'  headwaters  o'  this  river,  an'  a  couple 
more  streams,  which  might  be  dry  now,  ye'll  hit  th' 
Picketwire,  that's  alius  wet.  If  ye  find  th'  little  cricks 
dry,  head  more  westward  an'  ye'll  strike  th'  Picket- 
wire  quicker.  It'll  take  ye  nigh  inter  sight  o'  Bent's ; 
an'  thar  ain't  no  finer  men  walkin'  than  William  an' 
Charles  Bent.  Hate  ter  lose  ye,  Boyd;  but  thar  ain't 
no  two  ways  'bout  it;  ye  got  ter  go,  or  get  skinned 
alive." 

"Fm  not  goin'  ter  Bent's,  captain,"  said  Tom 
quietly.  "  I'll  be  in  Santa  Fe  soon  after  you  git  thar. 
Hank  knows  them  mountains  like  you  know  this  trail. 
When  I'm  missed  if  ye'll  throw  'em  off  my  track  I'll 
not  fergit  it."  He  smiled  grimly.  "If  I  war  goin* 
ter  Bent's  they  could  foUer,  an'  be  damned  to  'em. 


244  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

I'd  like  nothin'  better  than  have  'em  chase  us  through 
this  kind  o'  country." 

Woodson  chuckled  and  then  grew  thoughtful. 
"Boyd,  them  Texans  air  goin'  ter  make  trouble  fer 
us,  shore  as  shootin'.  It'll  be  bad  fer  you,  fer  every 
American  in  these  settlements  is  goin'  ter  be  v^atched 
purty  clost.     Better  go  ter  Bent's." 

"Nope;  Hank  an'  me  air  headin'  fer  Turley's,  up 
on  Arroyo  Hondo.  Hank  know^s  him  well.  Hyar 
come  th'  others.  I've  told  you  an'  Cooper,  an'  that's 
enough.  You  fellers  ain't  turnin'  back  so  soon,  air 
ye?"  he  called.  "Ye  don't  call  this  a  hunt?  Whar's 
yer  meat?" 

"  Whar's  yourn  ?  "  countered  Alonzo,  grinning.  "  I 
ate  so  many  berries  I  got  cramps." 

"  Us,  too,"  laughed  Uncle  Joe.  "  My  feet  air  tender, 
ridin'  so  long.    We're  goin'  back." 

"  Might  as  well  jine  ye,  then,"  said  Woodson. 
"Comin',  Boyd?" 

"  Not  fer  awhile,"  answered  Tom,  pushing  on. 

He  made  his  way  along  the  lower  levels,  reveling 
in  the  solitude  and  the  surroundings,  and  his  keen 
eyes  missed  nothing.  A  mile  from  camp  he  suddenly 
stopped  and  carefully  parted  the  thick  berry  bushes. 
In  the  soft  soil  were  the  prints  of  many  horses,  most 
of  them  shod.  Cautiously  he  followed  the  tracks  and 
in  a  few  moments  came  to  the  edge  of  a  small,  heavily 
grassed  clearing,  so  well  hidden  by  the  brush  and  the 
thick  growth  of  the  trees  along  the  encircling,  steep- 
faced  hills  that  its  presence  hardly  would  be  suspected. 
Closely  cropped  circles,  each  centered  by  the  hole 
made  by  a  picket  pin,  told  him  the  story;  and  when 


TEXAN  SCOUTS  245 

he  had  located  the  sand-covered  site  of  the  fire,  whose 
ashes  and  sticks  carefully  had  been  removed,  an 
imprint  in  the  soft  clay  brought  a  smile  to  his  face. 

"  Following  us  close,"  he  muttered.  "  Lord  help 
any  Mexicans  that  wander  away  from  the  wagons. 
Nearer  twenty  than  what  they  said."  He  slipped 
along  the  edge  of  the  pasture  and  found  where  the 
party  had  left  the  little  ravine.  Following  the  trail 
he  soon  came  to  another  matted  growth  of  under- 
brush, and  then  he  heard  the  barely  audible  stamp  of 
a  horse.  Creeping  forward  he  wormed  his  way 
through  the  greener  brush  and  finally  peered  through 
an  opening  among  the  stems  and  branches.  A  dozen 
Texans  were  lolling  on  the  floor  of  the  ravine,  and 
he  knew  that  the  others  were  doing  sentry  duty. 

A  shadow  passed  him  and  he  froze,  and  then  re- 
laxed as  Burch  came  into  sight.  It  was  needful  that 
he  make  no  mistake  in  how  he  made  his  presence 
known,  for  a  careless  hail  might  draw  a  volley. 

Burch  passed  him  treading  softly  and  when  the 
man's  back  was  turned  to  him  Tom  called  out  in  a 
low  voice.     "  Burch  !     Don't  shoot ! " 

"  Boyd !  "  exclaimed  the  sentry.  "  Cussed  if  ye 
ain't  a  good  un,  gittin'  whar  ye  air  an*  me  not  knowin* 
it.    What  ye  doin'  hyar?" 

"  Scoutin'  fer  Injuns.     Glad  ter  see  ye." 

Burch  stepped  to  the  edge  of  the  ravine.  "  Friend 
o'  mine  comin'  down,  name  o'  Boyd."  He  turned. 
"  Go  down  an'  meet  th'  boys ;  thar  honin'  fer  to  shake 
ban's  with  th'  kiyotc  that  hit  Armijo.  Be  with  ye 
soon." 

Tom  descended  and  shook  hands  with  the  smiling 


246  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

Texans  and  in  a  few  moments  was  at  home  in  the 
camp.  He  noticed  that  they  all  had  the  Colt  re- 
volving rifles  which  his  friend  Jarvis,  back  in  St. 
Louis,  had  condemned.  Each  man  wore  two  pistols 
of  the  same  make,  and  most  of  them  carried  heavy 
skinning  knives  inside  their  boot  legs. 

"  I  heard  tell  them  rifles  wam*t  o'  much  account/* 
he  observed. 

"Wall,  they  ain't  as  good  as  they  might  be,**  con- 
fessed a  lanky  Texan,  "if  thar  used  careless  an*  git 
too  hot.  A  Hawken  will  out-shoot  *em;  but  we 
mostly  fight  on  hossback,  an*  like  ter  git  purty  clost. 
Take  them  greasers  we  run  inter;  we  didn't  pull  trig- 
ger till  we  war  a  hundred  paces  away,  an'  by  th'  time 
we'd  emptied  th*  rifles  an'  pulled  pistols  th*  danged 
fight  war  over.  Th'  Injuns  don't  like  *em  worth  a 
cuss.    That's  a  right  smart  rifle  ye  got  thar,  friend." 

Tom  passed  it  around  and  it  was  duly  admired. 
Then  the  guard  was  changed  and  Burch  and  Flint 
appeared. 

"  You  fellers  air  stickin*  purty  clost  ter  us,"  observed 
Tom. 

"  But  not  as  clost  as  th*  greasers  air,**  laughed 
Flint.  "Danged  if  we  kin  ketch  one  o*  'em  away 
from  th*  waggins.'* 

"That's  jest  as  well,"  replied  Tom.  "More'n  half 
of  'em  hate  Armijo  as  much  as  we  do.  If  ye  pick  'em 
off  careless  yer  bound  ter  make  mistakes.  Thar's 
one  gang  that's  fer  him  strong,  an'  'twon't  be  long 
before  they  split  from  th*  others  an*  stand  out  so  thar 
won't  be  no  mistakin'  'em.  They'll  be  trailin*  me  an' 
Hank  in  a  bunch.    We're  aimin'  ter  slip  away  an'  head 


TEXAN  SCOUTS 247 

fer  Bent's  some  place  between  hyar  an'  the  Upper 
Spring." 

"Thought  ye  was  goin'  ter  Santa  Fe,"  said  Burch 
in  surprise.  "  If  yer  goin'  ter  Bent's  ye  should  'a' 
left  th'  train  at  th'  Crossin'." 

"I'm  goin'  ter  Santa  Fe,"  replied  Tom,  "but  thar's 
some  folks  that  air  anxious  ter  see  me.  If  they  larn 
I'm  thar  I'll  likely  be  stood  ag'in  a  wall;  an'  Armijo'll 
add  my  ears  ter  his  c'llection.  We  got  ter  throw  'em 
ofif  our  trail."  He  smiled  grimly  around  the  circle. 
"  I  don't  want  Salezar  ter  larn  I'm  in  this  part  o'  the 
country,  fer  I  want  ter  git  my  paws  on  him." 

At  the  mention  of  that  name  the  eyes  of  the  leader 
flamed  with  flickering  fires  and  he  leaned  slightly 
forward,  unable  to  conceal  his  eagerness.  "  Whar  ye 
aimin*  ter  leave  th'  caravan,  friend?"  he  asked. 

"Don't  know  jest  yet,"  answered  Tom,  "but  I 
know  th*  way  we'll  head.  Ye  know  whar  th'  waggin 
road  crossed  McNees  Crick?  Wall,  plumb  north  o' 
that  a  crick  empties  inter  th'  Cimarron.  Thar's  a 
dry  gully  jines  th'  crick  at  its  mouth,  makin'  a  V. 
Th*  gully  war  made  by  th'  buffalers  wearin*  away  th' 
top  soil,  which  let  the  rains  cut  inter  th'  sand  beneath 
an'  wash  it  away.  That  buffaler  trail  is  th'  biggest 
ye  ever  saw,  an'  it*s  worn  down  so  deep  that  every 
rain  pours  a  stream  along  it.  It's  cut  a  gully  back 
fer  a  hundred  paces  to  whar  th'  buffaler  wallers  have 
turned  a  little  pasture  inter  a  swamp  when  it  rains. 
Clost  to  its  upper  end  is  a  hill,  whar  my  partner  built 
a  cache  about  ten  years  back.  He  says  th'  pit  could 
be  easy  seen  when  he  war  thar  last." 

"We're  aimin*  ter  head  fer  Bent's  as  soon  as  th* 


248  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

caravan  gits  too  fur  along,"  said  the  leader,  who  not 
long  since  had  returned  from  the  lepers'  hospital,  used 
as  a  prison  in  his  case,  in  Mexico  City.  His  bitterness 
had  seared  him  to  the  soul  and  Tom  thought  it 
strange  that  he  so  easily  would  forego  the  desire  for 
revenge,  the  flames  of  which  intermittently  flickered 
in  his  eyes.  "  Tve  been  wonderin'  about  th'  best  an* 
straightest  way  to  Bent's,  with  water  on  it.  Yer 
pardner  says  that's  th'  best  trail?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Tom.  "An'  it's  th'  best  fer  us  in 
another  way.  Thar's  springs  in  th'  river  bed  up  thar 
an'  fer  near  a  mile  th'  river's  alius  wet.  Ye  see,  we 
got  ter  throw  th'  greasers  off  our  trail,  which  will  be 
too  danged  plain,  with  two  bosses  an'  eight  mules. 
I'd  swap  th'  eight  mules  fer  two  bosses,  seein'  as  how 
we're  fixed,  but  I  dassn't  make  th'  play,  fer  everybody 
in  th'  caravan  would  larn  of  it.  Come  ter  think  of  it, 
thar'U  be  more  bosses  an'  muks ;  couple  o'  friends  air 
goin'  with  us.  We  change  our  packs  tonight,  buildin' 
'em  up  with  buffaler  rugs  we  traded  th'  Comahches 
fer,  in  case  we  part  with  our  goods  an'  leave  th' 
caravan  afterward.  Th'  two  extra  bosses  would  be 
enough  ter  carry  our  grub  an'  supplies,  an'  they'd  let 
us  make  better  time  than  th'  mules  would." 

The  Texans  nodded  and  one  of  them  glanced  at 
his  leader  while  he  spoke  to  Tom.  "  Reckon  if  ye  got 
them  mules  ter  Bent's  ye  could  sell  'em,  or  trade  'em 
fer  a  couple  o'  bosses?"  He  hesitated  and  then  said: 
"We're  runnin'  powerful  short  o*  powder  an'  lead." 

"Th'  caravan  bein*  so  clost  ter  Santa  Fe,  it's  got 
more  o'  both  than  it  needs,"  replied  Tom.  "If  we 
kin  git  ye  some  we'll  leave  it  behind  th'  hill  at  that  old 


TEXAN  SCOUTS  249 

cache  o'  Hanks.  If  ye  go  that  way,  look  fer  it."  He 
grinned.  "  Hank  an'  me  air  aimin'  ter  carry  some  in 
one  of  th'  buffaler  rug  packs.  Thar's  two  fifty-pound 
pigs  o'  lead  fastened  to  each  o'  th'  cannon  carriages, 
an'  they  won't  have  no  use  fer  more  than  one  ter  each 
gun. 

"Wish  I  war  goin'  with  ye,"  growled  the  Texan 
leader,  his  eyes  flaming  again.  "  I'm  hankerin'  ter  git 
Salezar's  ears,  fer  I  saw  th'  polecat  c'llect  Texan  ears 
on  th'  road  from  San  Miguel  ter  'Paso,  ter  keep  th' 
tally  o'  his  prisoners  straight.  He  strung  'em  on  a 
wire,  d — n  him ! "  His  face  became  livid  with  pas- 
sion, and  murder  raised  its  grisly  visage  in  his  eyes. 

Tom  paled.  "Yes,"  he  said.  "He  took  th'  ears 
o'  a  friend  o'  mine  that  war  sick  an'  weak  with  hunger 
an'  cold  an'  exhaustion,  an'  couldn't  keep  up.  He 
had  traded  most  o'  his  clothes  fer  short  rides  on  th' 
mules  o'  th'  guards.  They  killed  him  near  Valencia, 
an'  his  ears  war  took  ter  account  fer  him." 

"Valencia!"  muttered  the  leader,  pacing  back  and 
forth  like  a  panther.  "I  remember  him!  Oh, 
Christ ! "  he  cried,  and  then  got  hold  of  himself. 
"  Boyd,  I'd  give  everythin'  I  own  ter  git  my  ban's 
on  that  Salezar;  an'  go  ter  hell  with  a  smile  on  my 
face ! "  Then  he  stiffened  and  reached  convulsively 
toward  his  holster,  for  the  unmistakable  twang  of  a 
bowstring  sounded  from  the  bushes  above  his  head. 
The  Texans  leaped  to  their  arms,  but  Tom  stopped 
them  with  a  cry. 

"Wait,  boys!  That's  Hank  —  my  pardner!"  He 
looked  up  toward  the  bushes.  "Ye  damned  fool! 
Show  yerself !" 


250  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

"  Didn't  hardly  know  if  'twar  safe,"  chuckled  Hank, 
his  head  slowly  arising  above  the  tangle  of  leaves 
and  vines,  a  dozen  paces  from  the  place  where  the 
bowstring  had  twanged. 

"Whar's  that  huntin'  party  ye  war  nursin'?" 
quickly  demanded  Tom. 

"Took  'em  'round  on  t'other  side  o'  th'  camp,  ast 
'em  ter  hold  my  boss,  an'  left  'em  thar,"  chuckled 
the  plainsman,  making  his  way  down  the  hillside  with 
caution  and  silence  that  had  become  habitual. 

"Boys,"  said  Tom,  "hyar's  a  'dopted  son  o'  th' 
Piegan  tribe  o'  th'  Blackfeet,  name  o'  Hank  Marshall, 
an'  he's  more  Injun  than  any  brave  in  th'  tribe.  Any- 
how, I'd  ruther  have  a  Injun  on  my  trail  than  him. 
He's  goin'  with  me  ter  Santa  Fe;  an'  Salezar's  shore 
goin'  ter  need  all  his  friends ! " 

"Put  her  thar!"  said  the  Texan  leader.  "If  yer 
lookin'  fer  help  I'll  jine  ye,  cussed  if  I  won't!" 

"Don't  w^ant  no  help  that's  strange  ter  Taos  an' 
Santer  Fe,"  laughed  Hank.  "We  got  two  Green 
River  boys,  an'  don't  need  no  more;  don't  hardly  need 
them,  but  Zeb  wants  his  ha'r,  an'  I  wants  his  ears, 
ears  bein'  his  pet  joke."  He  looked  at  the  leader. 
"You  boys  run  inter  some  'Rapahoes?  Thar's  nigh 
outer  a  dozen  projectin'  'round  these  hills.  Stumbled 
acrost  thar  camp  a-ways  back.  If  I'd  had  one  o' 
them  newfangled  rifles  ye  got  so  many  of,  danged 
if  I  wouldn't  'a'  trailed  'em."  He  grinned  expan- 
sively. "They  cleaned  out  a  cache  o'  mine,  three  year 
back,  up  on  Big  Sandy  Crick,  an'  I  ain't  paid  'em  fer 
it  yit." 

"We  shore  do  need  powder  an'  lead,"   said  the 


TEXAN  SCOUTS  251! 

leader  thoughtfully.  He  turned  to  one  of  his  men. 
"  Sam,  reckon  we  kin  part  with  pore  Williams'  rifle?** 

"Seein'  as  we  got  three  more  extrys,  reckon  we 
kin,"  answered  Sam.  "  It  oughter  be  worth  a  keg  o* 
powder  an'  a  couple  o'  pigs  o'  lead."  He  walked  over 
to  where  their  supplies  were  piled  and  returned  with 
a  heavy  Colt  repeating  rifle.  "  Hyar,  Hank,"  he  said, 
handing  it  to  the  hunter.  "  Be  keerful  ter  keep  th* 
powder  from  spillin'  down  'round  th'  cap  end;  an* 
don't  empty  her  too  fast  after  th*  first  few  shots. 
Hyar*s  th'  mould,  an'  some  caps.  Git  a  Injun  ter  pay 
fer  pore  Williams.     She's  full  loaded,  so  look  out." 

The  rifle  was  sheathed  in  a  saddle  scabbard  and 
Hank  took  it,  looked  from  it  to  his  own,  weighing 
them  both.  "Heavy  as  all  git  out,"  he  remarked. 
"Wall,  'twon't  weigh  nothin'  when  it's  slung  ter  a 
saddle.  Might  be  handy  purty  soon.  Much  obliged, 
friends.  How  we  goin*  ter  git  th*  powder  an*  lead 
ter  ye?" 

"  I've  arranged  fer  that,"  said  Tom,  picking  up  his 
rifle.  "Wall,  good  luck,  boys.  Remember  us  at 
Bent's  if  ye  git  thar." 

"Reckon  it's  you  boys  that  need  th'  good  luck,'* 
grimly  replied  the  leader.  He  watched  the  two  visi- 
tors until  they  were  lost  to  sight  in  the  brush  and 
then  turned  to  his  men,  his  eyes  flaming  again. 
"Break  camp,  boys;  we're  crossin*  th'  river  close  by^ 
ter  circle  back  ag'in  farther  up." 

Tom  and  Hank,  moving  silently  back  toward  the 
encampment,  had  covered  about  half  of  the  distance 
when  they  heard  a  sudden  burst  of  shots,  yells,  and 
the  thunder  of  hoofs.     Running  up  the  side  of  a  little 


252  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

hill  they  peered  over  the  top  and  flung*  themselves 
down.  Less  than  two  hundred  paces  away  a  little 
party  of  tenderfeet,  with  Patience  Cooper  in  the 
center,  fought  frightened  horses  as  a  band  of  nearly  a 
dozen  Indians  came  charging  straight  for  them  across 
the  little  clearing.  As  they  looked  one  of  the  tender- 
feet^s  horse  went  down,  spilling  its  rider,  and  throw- 
ing the  group  into  still  greater  confusion. 

"'Rapahoes!"  snorted  Hank,  and  his  rifle  spoke. 
"  One  f er  my  cache ! " 

The  double-barreled  rifle  of  his  companion  roared 
twice  and  another  warrior  plunged  from  his  horse, 
while  the  third  fought  madly  to  keep  his  seat,  but  his 
weakening  grasp  loosened  and  he  rolled  over  and 
over  across  the  grass.  Tom  dropped  the  empty  rifle 
and  started  to  rise,  his  hand  leaping  to  the  Colt  re- 
volver at  his  belt;  but  Hank,  who  had  slipped  the 
newly-acquired  repeating  rifle  from  its  sheath,  poked 
it  into  his  friend's  hand  and  fell  to  re-loading  his 
Hawken.  "  She's  yore  gal.  Give  'em  hell  ! "  he 
grunted. 

The  deadly  and  unexpected  attack  from  the  little 
hilltop  created  a  diversion  which  for  the  moment 
turned  the  thoughts  of  the  savages  from  the  tender- 
feet  in  the  open,  and  the  charging  line  split  to  pass 
the  forlorn  group  and  give  its  full  attention  to  the 
real  menace;  but  as  it  hesitated  the  heavy,  regular 
crashes  of  the  revolving  rifle  rolled  from  the  hill,  its 
lead  always  selecting  the  warrior  nearest  to  the  panic- 
stricken  group.  Here  an  Indian  went  down,  there  a 
horse;  and  with  the  cry  '^ Tejanos!''  the  rest  of  the 
savage  band  wheeled  and  dashed  over  the  route  they 


TEXAN  SCOUTS  253 

had  come.  The  last  warrior  to  reach  the  edge  of 
the  pasture  was  for  one  instant  silhouetted  against  the 
sky  on  the  edge  of  a  ravine,  and  at  that  moment 
Hank's  rifle  cracked.  Throwing  both  arms  up  over 
his  head,  he  turned  a  backward  flip  from  the  horse 
and  sprawled  inertly  in  a  currant  bush.  Re-loading 
as  quickly  as  they  could  while  on  the  run  the  two 
plainsmen  hastened  to  the  group,  and  Tom,  pulling 
Dr.  Whiting  from  his  horse,  was  within  an  inch 
of  strangling  him  when  Patience's  hands  on  his  wrists 
checked  him. 

"  Six  trusty  knights ! "  sneered  the  enraged  plains- 
man, hurling  the  doctor  from  him.  "  I  said  you  were 
six  flashes.  Ask  a  woman  to  go  riding  with  you  in  a 
country  as  broken  as  this,  and  as  over-run  with 
Indians  !"  He  took  a  step  forward,  seething  with 
rage,  and  ran  his  eyes  over  the  speechless  tenderfeet. 
"Git  back  to  camp,  all  of  you!  Miss  Cooper  goes 
with  us!"  Poised,  tense,  and  enraged  he  watched 
them  go  and  did  not  know  that  Hank  had  run  to  the 
little  hilltop  for  the  double-barreled  rifle  until  the  old 
hunter  returned  with  it,  loaded  its  two  barrels,  capped 
them  and  threw  the  weapon  under  his  arm.  At  that 
moment  a  burst  of  firing  sounded  from  the  north  and 
Hank  cocked  his  head. 

"Sounds  like  them  Colt  rifles,"  he  remarked,  and 
then  kicked  himself  figuratively,  for  at  his  words,  his 
two  companions,  almost  in  each  other's  arms,  started, 
stiffened,  and  stepped  apart.  Seeing  that  the  damage 
already  was  done.  Hank  placidly  continued.  "  Is  thar 
another  passel  o'  Texans  loose  'round  hyar,  or  has 
our  friends  hit  th'  trail  already?" 


254  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

"Yes,"  said  Tom,  quivering  like  a  leaf. 

Patience  closed  her  eyes.    "Yes,"  she  sighed. 

Hank  scratched  his  head  and  frowned,  very  much 
puzzled.  "Shucks!  thar  ain't  no  doubt  *bout  it, 
a-tall.    Course  it  is  —  an*  I'm  a  danged  old  fool!" 

"You're  one  of  the  four  best  men  I  ever  knew," 
said  Patience,  resting  her  hand  on  his  arm. 

Hank  felt  of  the  disgraceful,  stubby  beard  on  his 
face,  scowled  at  his  blackened  hands,  and  furtively 
brushed  at  a  bloodstain  on  his  shirt.  Then  he  wheeled 
abruptly  and  strode  off  to  look  over  the  victims  of 
the  little  affray.  When  he  turned  again  he  saw 
Patience  and  Tom  going  toward  camp.  Patience  on 
her  horse  and  Tom  striding  at  her  side.  Fixing  the 
strap  to  his  own  rifle  he  slung  the  weapon  over  his 
shoulder  and,  with  the  double-barreled  weapon  bal- 
anced expertly  in  his  hands,  slowly  followed  after  to 
act  as  a  badly  needed  protector  to  them  both. 

Back  in  camp  Tom  handed  Patience  into  her  uncle's 
care,  looked  at  her  in  a  way  she  would  remember  to 
the  end  of  her  days,  and  hastened  on  to  report  to  the 
captain  of  the  caravan.  When  he  reached  Woodson 
he  found  Hank  there  before  him,  laughingly  recount- 
ing the  fight.  As  Tom  came  up  Hank  stepped  back 
and  slipped  away,  heading  straight  for  the  excited 
group  of  tenderfeet  at  the  other  end  of  the  encamps 
ment,  and  roughly  pushed  in  among  them. 

"  Look  hyar,  ye  sick  pups,"  he  blurted.  "  My  pard- 
ner  dassn't  thrash  any  o*  ye,  or  he'll  mebby  lose  his 
gal.  Anybody  hyar  wantin*  ter  take  advantage  o'  an 
old  man  ?  Huh  I  Then  open  yer  dumb  ears  ter  this : 
If  I  ketch  airy  one  o'  ye  hangin'  'round  Cooper's 


TEXAN  SCOUTS  255 

waggins,  or  even  sayin*  *how-de-do'  to  that  gal,  I'll 
git  ye  if  I  has  ter  chase  ye  all  the  way  back  ter 
Missoury  ! "  He  spat  at  the  doctor's  feet,  turned  his 
back  and  rambled  over  to  where  his  trade  goods  were 
piled.     On  the  way  he  met  Zeb,  who  scowled  at  him. 

Hank  pulled  some  black  mops  out  of  his  pocket, 
showed  them,  and  shoved  them  back  again. 

"  Hell  ! "  said  Zeb,  enviously.   "  Whar  ye  git  'em  ?  " 

"Found  one  on  a  currant  bush,"  chuckled  Hank, 
and  went  on  again. 

Zeb  placed  his  fists  on  his  hips  and  scowled  in 
earnest.  "  I  didn't  know  what  that  shootin'  war,  with 
all  th'  hunters  runnin'  'round.  Dang  him  !  He  alius 
did  have  more  luck  ner  brains  ! " 

Up  at  the  captain's  wagon  Woodson  nodded  as  his 
companion  finished  speaking.  "  I  reckon  ye  kin  have 
'most  anythin'  in  this  hyar  camp,  Boyd.  Two  bars  o* 
lead  off'n  th'  cannon  carriages,  an'  a  keg  o'  powder? 
Shore,  I'll  put  th'  powder  in  Cooper's  little  waggin, 
an*  ye  kin  help  yerself  ter  th'  lead  when  ye  git  th* 
time." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

The  passing  01^   PEDRO 

AFTER  supper  that  night  Hank  and  Tom  sat 
around  their  fire  and  soon  were  joined  by  Pedro, 
who  paid  them  effusive  compHments  about  their  defeat 
of  the  Arapahoes.  They  squirmed  under  his  heavy 
flattery  and  finally,  in  desperation,  spoke  of  the  secret 
trail  to  Taos.  His  face  beamed  in  the  firelight  and 
he  leaned  eagerly  forward. 

"You  have  decide?"  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Tom.  "  Whar  we  goin'  ter  meet, 
and  what  time?" 

"Ah?"  breathed  Pedro.  "To  that  have  I  geeve 
mucho  thought.  Eet  should  be  ear-rly,  so  we  be  far 
away  by  thee  coming  of  thee  sun.    Ees  eet  not  so?" 

"Naw,"  growled  Hank.  "Folks  air  not  sleepin* 
sound  enough  then.  Nobody's  goin'  ter  foller  us. 
Thar'll  be  lots  o'  'em  leaviri'  camp  at  night  from  now 
on,  tryin'  ter  beat  each  other  ter  th'  customs  fellers. 
Two  hours  afore  dawn  is  time  enough.  But  we  got 
lots  o'  time  ter  figger  that;  we  won't  be  ter  th'  Upper 
Spring  fer  two  more  days.  Time  enough  then  ter 
talk  about  it." 

"  But,  eet  ees  tonight ! "  exclaimed  Pedro.  "Madre 
de  Dios!  You  teenk  I  mean  near  thee  Upper 
Spreeng?    No!    No!" 

"  Mebby  not;  but  that's  whar  we  mean,"  said  Tom. 

256 


THE  PASSING  OF  PEDRO  257 

"Think  we're  goin'  pokin*  along  through  this  Injun 
country  fer  two  nights  an'  a  day  by  ourselves?  Th' 
caravan  gits  ter  Wilier  Bar  tomorrow  night,  an' 
camps  at  th*  Upper  Spring,  or  Cold  Spring,  th*  next 
night.  That  puts  us  near  fifty  miles  further  on  in 
th'  protection  of  th*  caravan.*' 

"No!  No!**  argued  Pedro  in  despair.  "Eet  ees 
too  miicho  reesk !  *' 

"Of  what?'*  demanded  Tom,  in  surprise. 

"  Eet  may  be  that  Armijo  send  soldats  to  meet  thee 
tr-rain,  lak  other  times.  Sefiores,  eet  mus*  be  tonight! 
Tonight  eet*  mus'  be !  "  He  looked  around  suddenly. 
"But  where  ar-re  thee  car  gas,  thee  packs?  I  do  not 
see  them.    What  ees  eet  you  do?** 

"We  put  *em  outside  th*  corral,*'  chuckled  Tom 
knowingly,  "  so  folks  will  git  used  ter  seeing  *em  thar. 
Tomorrow  night  we'll  do  th'  same,  an'  do  it  ag'in  at 
th'  Upper  Spring.  Somebody  shore  would  see  us  if 
we  had  ter  pack  *em  here  an*  sneak  'em  through  th' 
camp.  Ye  should  tell  yer  friends  ter  put  thar  packs 
outside  th'  waggins,  too.  How  we  goin*  ter  git 
through  th'  guards  around  th'  camp?" 

"  By  my  fr-riends,"  answered  Pedro.  "  But  eet  may 
be  too  late  at  Cold  Spreeng!  '*  he  expostulated.  "  Eef 
thee  soldats  ar-re  there  —  ah,  sefiores!  Eet  ees  ver' 
bad,  Cold  Spreeng!** 

"  We  ain't  botherin'  'bout  that,"  said  Tom  reassur- 
ingly. "Hank  kin  scout  on  ahead  o'  us,  an'  if  thar 
camped  up  thar  we  kin  drop  out  o'  th*  train  behind 
any  bend  on  th'  way,  an*  take  ter  th'  brush.** 

Pedro  begged  and  pleaded,  but  to  no  avail.  He 
still  was  arguing  when  his  two  companions  rolled  up 


258  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

in  their  blankets  and  settled  down  to  go  to  sleep. 
Sadly  he  walked  away,  hiding  his  anger  until  well 
out  of  their  sight,  and  then  hastened  to  his  own  fire 
and  sent  three  of  his  compatriots  to  watch  the  sleep- 
ing pair.  They  had  their  watch  for  nothing,  and 
while  they  doggedly  kept  their  eyes  on  the  two  plains- 
men, Uncle  Joe  and  his  two  wagoners  were  busy  on 
the  other  side  of  the  camp,  stowing  merchandise  in 
the  wagons  and  making  false  packs.  This  they  found 
easy  to  do  without  calling  upon  many  buffalo  rugs, 
for  the  goods  had  been  packed  in  light  boxes,  over 
which  had  been  thrown  skins  and  canvas.  By  taking 
out  the  contents  of  the  boxes  and  putting  the  con- 
tainers back  into  their  original  wrappings  the  shapes 
of  the  packs  did  not  change.  The  pigs  of  lead,  a  keg 
of  powder  and  bundles  of  stones  were  wrapped  in 
pieces  of  old  skins  to  give  weight  to  the  packs  to 
keep  them  from  flopping  at  every  step  of  the  mules. 
They  did  not  start  to  work  until  Zeb  Houghton  and 
Jim  Ogden  returned  from  their  tour  of  guard  duty  and 
took  up  another  kind  of  guard  duty  near  the  wagons ; 
and  long  before  daylight  awakened  the  encampment 
the  work  was  done  and  no  one  the  wiser.  Alonzo 
Webb  and  Enoch  Birdsall  had  taken  care  of  the  packs 
belonging  to  Ogden  and  Houghton  and  everything 
was  in  shape  for  quick  action. 

On  the  march  again  after  an  early  breakfast  the 
caravan  plodded  along  the  trail  to  reach  Willow  Bar 
in  good  time  for  the  next  night  camp.  As  the  wag- 
ons rolled  along  the  road  following  the  course  of 
the  Cimarron,  Uncle  Joe  and  Patience  dropped  back 
to  the  rear  guard,  where  Hank  Marshall  scowled  at 


THE  PASSING  OF  PEDRO  259 

Jim  Ogden,  but  refrained  from  open  hostilities.  Hank 
was  glad  to  see  them  and  entertained  them  mile  after 
mile  with  accounts  of  his  life  and  experiences  in  the 
great  West.  At  times  his  imagination  set  a  hard 
pace  for  his  vocabulary,  but  the  latter  managed  to 
keep  up.  The  men  exchanged  tobacco  off  and  on 
and  no  one  gave  a  second  thought  to  what  they  were 
doing.  When  Uncle  Joe  and  Patience  rode  forward 
again  as  the  train  drew  near  to  the  noon  camping 
place,  Uncle  Joe  was  poorer  and  lighter  by  the  loss 
of  a  goodly  sum  in  minted  gold,  while  Hank  was 
richer  and  heavier.  The  balance  was  obtainable  in 
Santa  Fe  in  the  warehouse  of  a  mutual  friend. 

The  wagons  hardly  had  left  the  noon  camp  when 
a  heavy  rain  storm  burst  upon  them,  with  a  blast  of 
cold  air  that  quickly  turned  the  rain  into  driving 
sheets  of  hail.  These  storms  were  common  along  the 
Cimarron  and  at  times  raged  for  two  or  three  days. 
The  animals  became  frantic  with  fear  and  pain,  and 
the  train  was  a  scene  of  great  confusion  from  one 
end  to  the  other.  Alternate  downpours  of  rain,  sleet, 
and  heavy  hailstones  continued  all  the  rest  of  the  day 
and  the  encampment  at  Willow  Bar  was  one  of  sullen- 
ness  and  discontent.  The  wind  rose  during  the  early 
part  of  the  night  and  sent  the  rain  driving  into  the 
wagons  through  every  crack  and  crevice,  and  the 
flapping  and  slapping  and  booming  of  wagon  covers, 
added  to  the  fury  of  the  wind  and  the  swish  of  the 
downpour,  filled  the  night  with  a  tumult  of  noise. 
The  guards  around  the  camp  either  crawled  under 
skins  or  crept  back  to  their  wagons,  not  able  to  see 
three  feet  in  the  blackness. 


26o  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

Tom  and  Hank  had  taken  refuge  under  a  great 
Pittsburg  wagon  owned  by  Haviland  and  had  fastened 
buffalo  rugs  to  its  sides  to  shed  some  of  the  rain.  As 
soon  as  darkness  set  in  and  Pedro's  spies  found  that 
they  could  not  see  an  arm's  length  from  them  and 
were  drenched  and  half  frozen  by  the  steady  down- 
pour, they  fled  from  their  posts  and  sought  refuge 
from  the  storm.  It  took  very  little  to  convince  them 
that  the  men  they  were  to  watch  would  stay  where 
they  were  until  dawn  or  later,  and  they  did  not  let 
Pedro  know  of  their  deflection. 

"  Nine,  ten,  eleven,"  muttered  the  first  of  two  men 
leading  packmules  as  they  felt  their  way  from  wagon 
to  wagon.  "This  oughter  be  Haviland's,  Zeb.  Yep, 
I  kin  feel  thar  skin  walls."  He  bent  down  and  raised 
the  lower  edge  of  a  skin.    "  Hank !    Tom  1 " 

"All  right,  Jim,"  came  the  low  answer,  and  the  two 
partners,  bundled  in  skins  until  they  looked  like  noth- 
ing human,  crawled  from  their  snug  shelter  and  stood 
up,  their  one  and  constant  thought  being  for  the 
covers  of  the  hammers  of  their  heavy  rifles.  Hank 
pushed  ahead  and  the  night  swallowed  up  the  little 
party. 

Uncle  Joe  raised  himself  on  one  elbow  and  peered 
through  a  small  opening  in  the  canvas  at  the  rear  end 
of  his  first  huge  wagon,  and  got  a  faceful  of  cold  rain 
before  he  could  close  the  opening  again.  He  had 
done  this  a  dozen  times  since  dark.  Muttering  sleep- 
ily he  rolled  up  in  his  blankets  and  rugs  and  dozed 
again,  squirming  down  into  the  warm  bed  as  vague 
thoughts  sped  through  his  mind  of  what  his  friends 
were  going  to  face. 


THE  PASSING  OF  PEDRO  261 

Suddenly  the  soft  whinny  of  a  horse  sounded 
squarely  under  him,  and  he  bounced  from  the  blankets 
and  crept  to  a  crack  where  the  canvas  was  nailed  to 
the  tailboard  of  the  wagon.  "Hello!"  he  called. 
"Hello!" 

A  low  voice  answered  him  and  he  shivered  as  a 
trickle  of  cold  rain  rolled  down  his  face.  "Thought 
you  had  given  it  up  till  tomorrow  night.  This  is  a 
hell  of  a  night,  boys,  to  go  wandering  off  from  the 
camp.  Sure  you  won't  get  lost  among  th'  hills?" 
He  chuckled  at  the  reply  and  shivered  again.  "  Sure 
I'll  tell  her  Bent's.  Yes.  No,  she  won't.  What? 
Look  here,  young  man;  she's  plumb  cured  of  tender- 
feet.  Yes,  I  remember  everything.  All  right;  good 
luck,  boys.  God  knows  you'll  need  it ! "  He  listened 
for  a  moment,  heard  no  sounds  of  movement,  and 
called  again.  "What's  th'  matter?"  There  came  no 
answer  and  he  crept  back  to  his  blankets,  his  teeth 
chattering,  and  lay  awake  the  rest  of  the  night, 
worrying. 

Between  the  wagons  and  the  road  the  little  pack- 
train  waited,  kept  together  by  soft  bird  calls  instead 
of  by  sight.  A  plaintive,  disheartened  snipe  whistled 
close  by  and  was  answered  in  kind.  Hank  almost 
bumped  into  Ogden  before  he  saw  him.  They  both 
looked  like  drowned  rats,  the  water  slipping  from 
the  buffalo  hair  and  pouring  from  them  in  little  rills. 

"Ain't  a  guard  in  sight,  or  ruther  feelin',  fifty  feet 
each  side  o'  th'  road,"  Hank  reported.  "  Bet  every 
blasted  one  o'  'em  is  back  in  camp.  Mules  all  tied 
together?    Everybody  hyar?    All  right.    Off  we  go." 

All  night  long  the  Httle   atejo   slopped   down   the 


2(>2  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

streaming  road,  kept  to  it  by  the  uncanny  instinct 
and  the  oft  repeated  cheeping  and  twittering  of  the 
adopted  son  of  the  Blackfeet,  who  could  perfectly 
imitate  any  night  bird  he  ever  had  heard;  and  he  had 
heard  them  all.  Horses  whinnied,  mules  brayed, 
wolves  and  coyotes  howled,  foxes  squalled,  chip- 
munks scolded,  squirrels  chattered  and  several  other 
animals  performed  solos  in  the  dark  at  the  head  of 
the  little  pack  train,  to  be  answered  from  the  rear. 
Anyone  unfortunate  enough  to  be  camped  at  the  edge 
of  the  trail  would  have  thought  himself  surrounded 
by  a  menagerie. 

With  the  first  sullen  sign  of  dawn  Tom  pushed  on 
ahead,  reconnoitered  the  Upper  Spring,  found  it  de- 
serted and  went  on,  riding  some  hundreds  of  yards 
from,  but  parallel  to,  the  trail  and  soon  came  to  Cold 
Spring.  Here  he  saw  quantities  of  camp  and  riding 
gear,  abandoned  firelocks,  personal  belongings,  and 
other  things  "forgotten"  by  the  brave  Armijo  and 
his  army  in  their  precipitate  retreat  from  the  Texans, 
while  the  latter  were  still  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles 
away.  Scouting  in  the  vicinity  for  awhile  he  rode 
back  and  met  the  little  atejo,  which  had  been  plodding 
steadily  on  at  its  pace  of  three  miles  an  hour;  and  all 
the  urging  of  which  the  men  were  capable  would 
not  increase  that  speed. 

At  the  Upper  Spring,  which  poured  into  a  ravine 
and  flowed  toward  the  Cimarron  a  few  miles  to  the 
north,  the  wagon  road  drew  farther  from  the  river 
and  ran  toward  the  Canadian ;  and  here  the  little  party 
left  it  to  turn  and  twist  over  and  around  hills,  ravines, 
pastures   and   woods,   and   then   slopped   down    the 


THE  PASSING  OF  PEDRO  263 

middle  of  a  storm-swollen  rivulet.  They  turned  up 
one  of  its  small  feeders  and  followed  it  for  half  a  mile 
and  then,  crossing  a  little  divide,  struck  another  small 
brook  and  splashed  down  it  until  they  came  to  the 
Cimarron.  Here  they  threw  into  the  river  the  use- 
less contents  of  the  false  packs,  distributed  the  sup- 
plies among  the  mules,  and  pushed  on  again  upstream 
along  the  bank. 

They  now  were  well  up  on  the  headwaters  of  the 
river  and  its  width  was  negligible,  although  its  storm- 
fed  torrent  boiled  and  seethed  and  gave  to  it  a  false 
fierceness.  Their  doubling  and  the  hiding  of  their 
trail  in  the  streams  had  not  been  done  so  much  for 
the  purpose  of  throwing  the  Mexicans  off  their  track, 
as  to  make  their  pursuers  think  they  were  trying  to 
throw  them  off.  They  knew  that  the  Mexicans,  upon 
losing  the  tracks,  would  strike  straight  for  the  old 
and  now  almost  abandoned  Indian  trail  for  Bent's 
Fort. 

"We  got  about  a  ten-hour  start  on  'em,"  growled 
Tom,  "but  they'll  cut  that  down  quick,  once  they  git 
goin'.  Reckon  I'll  lay  back  aways  an'  slow  '^m  up 
if  they  git  hyar  too  soon." 

Zeb  and  Jim  wheeled  their  horses  and  without  a 
word  accompanied  him  to  the  rear. 

Hank,  leading  the  bell  mule,  pushed  on,  looking 
for  the  site  of  his  old  cache  and  for  a  good  place  to 
cross  the  swollen  stream,  and  he  soon  stopped  at  the 
water's  edge  and  howled  like  a  wolf.  In  a  few  min- 
utes his  companions  came  up,  reported  no  Mexicans 
in  sight,  and  unpacked  the  more  perishable  supplies. 
These  they  carried  across  to  the  other  bank,  their 


264  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

horses  swimming  strongly  and  soon  the  mules  were 
ready  to  follow.  Tom  led  off,  entering  the  stream 
with  the  picket  rope  of  the  bell  mule  fastened  to  his 
saddle,  and  with  his  weapons,  powder  horn  and  "  pos- 
sible '*  sack  high  above  his  head.  His  horse  breasted 
the  current  strongly,  quartering  against  it,  and  the 
bell  mule  followed.  After  her,  with  a  shght  show  of 
hesitation,  came  the  others,  the  three  remaining  hunt- 
ers bringing  up  the  rear. 

As  the  ate  jo  formed  again  and  started  forward  Hank 
hung  back^  peering  into  the  stunted  trees  and  brush 
on  the  other  side  of  the  stream. 

"  Come  on,  Hank,"  said  Tom.  "  What  ye  lookin* 
fer?    They  warn't  in  sight.*' 

"  I  war  sorta  hankerin'  fer  'em  ter  show  up," 
growled  Hank  with  deep  regret.  "That's  plumb 
center  range  from  hyar,  over  thar.  Wouldn't  mind 
takin'  a  couple  o'  cracks  at  'em,  out  hyar  by  ourselves, 
us  four.  Alius  hate  ter  turn  my  tail  ter  yaller-bellies 
like  them  varmints.  I  hate  'em  next  ter  Crows !  "  He 
slowly  turned  his  horse  and  fell  in  behind  the  last 
mule,  glancing  back  sorrowfully.  Then  he  looked 
ahead.     "  Thar's  my  ol'  cache,"  he  chuckled. 

Before  them  on  the  right  was  an  eroded  hill  with 
steep  sides,  its  flat  top  covered  wnth  a  thick  mass  of 
brush,  berry  bushes  and  scrub  timber,  and  on  its  right 
was  a  swamp,  filled  with  pools  and  rank  with  vegeta- 
tion. The  dry  wash  marking  the  end  of  the  great 
buffalo  trail  was  dry  no  longer,  but  poured  out  a 
roiled,  yellow-brown  stream  into  the  dirty  waters  of 
the  Cimarron. 

Rounding   the    hill   they    stopped   and    exchanged 


THE  PASSING  OF  PEDRO  265 

grins,  for  in  a  little  horseshoe  hollow  two  horses,  with 
pack  saddles  on  their  backs,  stopped  their  grazing, 
pulled  to  the  end  of  their  picket-ropes,  and  looked 
inquiringly  at  the  invaders. 

"Thar's  jest  no  understandin*  th'  ways  o*  Provi- 
dence," chuckled  Hank  as  he  dismounted.  "  Hyar 
we  been  a-wishin'  an'  a-wishin'  fer  a  couple  o'  bosses 
to  take  th'  place  o'  these  cold-'lasses  mules,  an'  danged 
if  hyar  they  ain't,  saddles  an'  all,  right  under  our 
noses." 

While  he  went  along  the  back  trail  on  foot  to  a 
point  from  where  he  could  see  the  river,  his  com- 
panions became  busy.  They  pooled  their  supplies 
and  packed  them  securely  on  the  Providence-provided 
horses,  put  the  rest  on  their  own  animals,  picketed 
the  mules  and  removed  the  bell  from  the  old  mare, 
tossing  it  aside  so  its  warning  tinkle  would  be  stilled. 
Signalling  Hank,  in  a  few  minutes  they  were  on  their 
way  again  along  the  faint  and  in  many  places  totally 
effaced  trail  leading  over  the  wastes  to  the  distant 
trading  post  on  the  Arkansas.  Coming  to  a  rain- 
water rivulet  Hank  sent  them  westward  down  its 
middle  while  he  rode  splashingly  upstream.  Soon 
coming  to  a  tangle  of  brush  he  forced  his  horse  to 
take  a  few  steps  around  it  on  the  bank,  returned  to 
the  stream  and  then,  holding  squarely  to  its  middle, 
picked  his  way  through  the  tangle  and  rode  back  to 
rejoin  his  friends,  having  left  behind  him  a  sign  of  his 
upward  passing.  In  case  Providence  went  to  sleep 
and  took  no  more  interest  in  his  affairs,  he  had  the 
satisfaction  of  knowing  that  he  had  done  what  he 
could  to  hide  their  trail. 


266  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

He  found  his  friends  waiting  for  him  and  he  shook 
his  head  as  he  joined  them.  "Danged  if  I  like  this 
hyar  hidin*,"  he  growled,  coming  back  to  his  pet 
grievance.  "I  most  gen'rally  *d  ruther  do  it  my- 
self." 

"  But  it  ain't  a  question  o'  fighting,"  retorted  Tom. 
"  We  got  ter  hide  our  trail  from  now  on  in  case  some 
greaser  gits  away,  like  they  did  from  them  Texans 
back  nigh  th'  Crossin',  an'  takes  th'  news  in  ter  th' 
settlements  that  we  didn't  go  ter  Bent's  after  we  left 
th'  wagon  road.  Ye'll  git  all  th'  danged  fightin'  yer 
lookin'  fer  afore  ye  puts  Santa  Fe  behind  ye  —  an'  I'm 
bettin'  we'll  all  show  our  trails  a  hull  lot  worse  afore 
we  git  through  ter  Bent's.  Come  on;  Turley's  ranch 
.is  a  long  ways  off.  If  yer  itchin'  ter  try  that  re- 
peatin'  rifle  ye'll  shore  git  th'  chance  ter,  later." 

Hank  grinned  guiltily  and  while  he  was  not  thor- 
oughly convinced  of  the  soundness  of  their  flight,  so 
far  as  his  outward  appearances  showed,  he  grunted  a 
little  but  pushed  on  and  joined  his  partner.  In  a  few 
minutes  he  grinned  again. 

"  I  ain't  never  had  th'  chanct  ter  try  fer  six  plumb- 
centers  without  takin'  th'  rifle  from  my  shoulder," 
he  remarked.  "J^st  wait  till  I  take  this  hyar  Colt 
up  in  th'  Crow  country!"  He  chuckled  with  antici- 
pated pleasures  and  then  glanced  sidewise  at  his  part- 
ner. "Say,  Tom,"  he  said,  reminiscently;  "who  air 
th'  three  other  best  men  yer  gal  was  thinkin'  of,  back 
thar  in  that  little  clearin'?" 

"What  you  mean?"  demanded  Tom,  whirling  in 
his  saddle,  his  face  flushing  under  its  tan.  "An'  she 
ain't  my  gal,  neither." 


THE  PASSING  OF  PEDRO  267 

Hank  chirped  and  twittered  a  bit.  "Then  who's 
is  she?" 

"Don't  know;  but  she  won't  like  bein'  called  mine. 
Ye  oughtn't  call  her  that." 

"Not  even  atween  us  two?" 

"Not  never,  a-tall." 

"That  so?"  muttered  Hank,  a  vague  plan  present- 
ing itself  to  his  mind,  to  be  considered  and  used 
later.  "Huh!  I  must  be  gittin'  old  an'  worthless," 
he  mourned.  "  I  been  readin'  signs  fer  more'n  thirty- 
year,  an'  I  ain't  never  read  none  that  war  airy  plainer, 
arter  them  thievin'  'Rapahoes  turned  tail  an'  lit  out. 
Anyhow,  I  reckon  mebby  yer  safe  if  ye  keep  on 
thinkin'  that  she's  yer  gal."  He  scratched  his  chin. 
"But  who  war  th'  other  three?" 

"Why,  I  do  remember  her  saying  something  like 
that,"  confessed  Tom  slowly,  tingling  as  his  memory 
hurled  the  whole  scene  before  him.  "Reckon  she 
meant  Uncle  Joe  an'  her  father." 

"  That  accounts  fer  two  o'  'em,"  said  Hank,  nodding 
heavily;  "but  who  in  tarnation  is  th'  third?" 

"  Don't  know,"  grunted  Tom. 

"Huh!  Bet  he's  that  stuck-up,  no-' count  doctor 
feller.  Yeah ;  that's  who  it  is."  He  glanced  slyly  at 
his  frowning  friend.  "Told  ye  I  war  gettin'  old  an' 
worthless.  Gosh!  an'  she's  goin'  all  th'  rest  o'  th' 
way  ter  Santer  Fe  with  him ! "  He  slapped  his  horse 
and  growled  in  mock  anxiety.  "  We  better  git  a-goin' 
an'  not  loaf  like  we  air.  Santer  Fe's  a  long  ways  ofif ! " 

Two  miles  further  on  they  turned  up  a  little  branch 
of  the  stream  and  Hank,  stopping  his  horse,  threw  up 
his  hand.    "  Listen ! "  he  cried. 


268  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

Four  pairs  of  keen  ears  sifted  the  noises  of  the  inter- 
mittent wind  and  three  pairs  of  eyes  turned  to  regard 
their  companion. 

"What  ye  reckon  ye  heard?"  curiously  asked  Zeb. 

"I'd  take  my  oath  I  heard  rifle  shots  —  a  little  bust 
o'  *em,"  replied  Hank.  "Thar  ain't  no  questionin'  it; 
I  am  gittin'  old.  Come  along;  we'll  keep  ter  th' 
water  fur's  we  kin,  anyhow." 

Back  at  the  encampment  of  the  caravan  dawn 
found  the  animals  stampeded,  and  considerable  time 
elapsed  before  they  were  collected  and  before  the 
absence  of  Tom  and  his  friends  was  noticed.  Then, 
with  many  maledictions,  Pedro  rallied  his  friends  and 
set  out  along  the  wagon  road,  following  a  trail  easily 
seen  notwithstanding  the  rain  which  had  beaten  at 
the  telltale  tracks  all  night.  Mile  after  mile  unrolled 
behind  them,  saturated  with  Spanish  curses;  miles 
covered  with  all  the  vengeful  ferocity  and  eagerness 
of  Apaches.  The  score  of  Mexicans  were  well-armed, 
having  spent  the  winter  in  the  Missouri  settlements 
and  procured  the  best  weapons  to  be  had  there.  The 
Upper  Spring  came  near  and  was  put  behind  in  a 
shower  of  hoof-thrown  mud,  and  without  pause  they 
followed  the  tracks  leading  into  the  rough  country, 
like  hounds  unleashed.  They  were  five  to  one,  and 
these  odds  were  deemed  sufficient  in  a  sudden  night 
attack.  There  would  be  satisfaction,  glory,  and  profits 
for  them  all.  The  Governor  had  demanded  Tom 
Boyd's  ears,  on  him  if  possible,  without  him  if  they 
could  be  obtained  in  no  other  way;  the  Governor  was 
powerful  and  would  reward  loyal  and  zealous  service. 


THE  PASSING   OF  PEDRO  269 


They  followed  the  trail  of  the  atejo  around  hills, 
through  ravines,  and  past  woods,  an  advance  guard 
of  three  men  feeling  the  way.  Then  the  tracks  ceased 
at  the  side  of  a  creek ;  but  they  did  not  pause.  Choos- 
ing the  straightest  practical  route  to  the  Cimarron  at 
the  beginning  of  the  old  Indian  trail  running  north- 
ward to  the  Arkansas,  they  kept  on.  At  last  they 
saw  the  muddy  flood  of  the  river  and  as  they  reached 
its  banks  and  read  them  at  a  glance  they  sent  up  an 
exultant  shout.  Holding  their  weapons  and  powder 
well  above  the  backs  of  their  swimming  horses  they 
reached  the  further  side  and  took  up  the  trail  again. 
Pedro  dashed  forward  and  flung  up  an  arm  and  as 
his  followers  stopped  in  answer  he  cheered  them  with 
a  Spanish  oration,  in  which  Pedro  played  no  minor 
part.  "Pedro  never  loses!"  he  boasted.  "Before 
noon  we  will  be  on  the  heels  of  the  gringo  dogs  and 
our  scouts  will  find  their  camp  in  the  night.  Before 
another  sun  rises  in  the  heavens  we  will  have  their 
ears  at  our  belts  and  their  trade  goods  on  the  way  to 
the  Valley  of  Taos !  Forward,  my  braves !  Forward, 
my  warriors !    Pedro  leads  you  to  glory ! " 

They  snapped  forward  in  their  saddles  as  the  spurs 
went  home,  their  rifles  at  the  ready,  their  advance 
guard  steadily  forging  ahead,  and  thundered  along 
the  tracks  of  the  fleeing  atejo.  Rounding  the  little 
hill  with  its  frowsy  cap  of  brush  and  scrub  timber, 
they  received  a  stunning  surprise ;  for  dropping  down 
the  steep  bank  as  if  from  the  sky  charged  twenty- 
odd  vengeful  Texans,  their  repeating  rifles  cracking 
like  the  roll  of  a  drum.  Pedro's  exultant  face  be- 
came a  sickly  yellow,  his  burning  eyes  in  an  instant 


270  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

changed  to  glass,  and  his  boasting  words  were 
slashed  across  by  the  death  rattle  in  his  throat.  Vol- 
ley after  volley  crashed  and  roared  as  the  charging 
Texans  wheeled  to  charge  back  again,  and  as  they 
turned  once  more  on  the  hillside  they  pulled  up  sharp- 
ly and  viewed  the  havoc  of  their  deadly  work.  No 
man  was  left  to  carry  tales,  and  Pedro  had  spoken 
with  prophetic  vision,  for  he  had  indeed  led  his  war- 
riors to  glory —  and  oblivion. 


c 


CHAPTER  XVII 

'"^SPRESS    FROM    BENT^s'' 

IRCLING  back  to  the  river  so  as  not  to  lose  its 
guidance  nor  stray  too  far  out  of  the  direct 
course,  they  reached  its  desolate  banks  at  nightfall 
and  camped  at  the  base  of  a  low  hill  on  the  top  of 
which  grew  dense  masses  of  greasewood.  Zeb  had 
shot  a  black-tailed  deer  on  their  way  to  the  river  and 
their  supper  that  night,  so  far  as  the  meat  was  con- 
cerned, would  have  delighted  the  palate  of  an  epicure. 
Cooked  over  the  hot,  sputtering,  short-lived  grease- 
wood,  which  constantly  was  added,  and  kept  on  the 
windward  side  of  the  blaze,  the  flavor  of  the  meat  was 
very  little  affected  and  they  gorged,  hunter-like,  until 
they  could  eat  no  more;  and  partly  smoked  some  of 
the  remaining  meat  to  have  against  some  pressing 
need. 

As  the  stream  dwindled  the  nature  of  its  banks  and 
of  the  surrounding  country  changed,  the  vegetation 
steadily  becoming  more  desert-like.  White  chalk 
cliffs  arose  like  painted  eyebrows  from  the  tops  of  the 
banks,  where  erosion  had  revealed  them;  loose  and 
disintegrating  sandstone  lay  about  the  broken  plain 
in  myriads  of  shapes.  Stunted  and  dead  cottonwoods 
added  their  touch  to  the  general  scene,  leaning  this 
way  and  that,  weird,  uncanny,  ghostlike.  The  drab 
sagebrush  and  the  green  fan  of  the  palmetto  became 

271 


2y2  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

steadily  more  common,  the  latter  figuring  largely  in 
the  daily  life  of  the  Mexicans,  for  its  mashed,  sapon- 
aceous roots  provided  them  with  their  pulpy  amole, 
which  was  an  excellent  substitute  for  soap.  Prickly 
pears,  Spanish  bayonets,  masses  of  greasewood  bushes 
and  scattering  fringes  of  short  grama  grass  completed 
the  carpeting  of  the  desolate  plain. 

Doggedly  they  pushed  on,  thankful  for  the  heavy 
rains  of  the  last  two  days,  which  had  reached  even 
here  and  left  little  pools  of  bad-tasting  water  for  them- 
selves and  their  beasts.  At  noon  they  stopped  and 
built  a  fire  of  stunted  cedar,  for  in  daylight  its  telltale 
flames  told  nothing.  They  cooked  another  black- 
tailed  deer,  smoked  some  of  the  meat,  and  ran  bullets 
until  they  had  all  of  the  latter  they  could  possibly 
use.  On  again  toward  the  Canadian  until  nightfall, 
lighting  no  fire,  but  eating  the  meat  they  had  cooked 
at  noon.  They  arranged  a  four-shift  watch  and 
passed  a  peaceful  night.  In  their  range  of  vision 
were  Raton  Peak,  Pike's  Peak,  and  the  Wet  Moun- 
tain, that  paradise  for  hunters;  the  twin  Spanish 
Peaks  with  their  caps  of  snow,  and  behind  these  tow- 
ering sentries  loomed  the  sullen  bulk  of  a  great  moun- 
tain range  under  a  thin  streak  of  glittering  white. 

At  any  distance  their  appearance  hardly  would  tell 
whether  they  were  white  hunters  or  Indians  from 
Bent's,  since  their  garb  was  a  mixture  of  both  and 
their  skins  so  tanned,  their  hair  so  long  as  to  cause 
grave  doubts.  More  than  once  in  that  country  two 
white  men  have  exchanged  shots,  each  taking  the 
other  for  an  Indian.  At  Bent's  Fort  on  the  Arkansas 
there  were  stray  Indians  from  far-oft  tribes,  and  they 


'''SPRESS  FROM  BENT'S''  273 

dressed  in  what  they  could  get;  and  at  The  Pueblo, 
that  little  trading  post  farther  up  on  the  Arkansas, 
Indians  and  whites  lived  together  and  intermarried. 
Not  one  of  the  four  but  could  speak  more  than  one 
savage  dialect;  and  Tom's  three  companions  pos- 
sessed an  Indian  vocabulary  which  left  little  to  be 
desired.  If  it  came  to  a  test  which  might  prove  too 
severe  for  him  he  could  be  dumb,  and  fall  back  on  the 
sign  language. 

At  last  the  Canadian  was  reached  and  passed,  and 
Hank  led  them  unerringly  up  the  valley  of  a  little 
feeding  stream  which  poured  its  crystal  flood  down 
the  gorges  of  a  mountain  range  now  almost  over  their 
heads.  Coming  to  a  rocky  bowl  scooped  out  of  the 
sheer,  overhanging  wall  at  a  bend,  he  built  a  fire  of 
dry  wood  that  was  safely  screened,  and  from  his  "  pos- 
sible "  sack  he  took  various  leaves  and  stems  and 
roots  he  had  collected  on  the  way.  Four  white  men 
looking  more  like  Indians  had  entered  that  little 
valley  just  before  dusk.  In  the  morning  at  dawn  two 
white  men,  a  Blackfoot  and  a  Delaware,  a  hunting 
party  from  Bent's  Fort  with  messages  for  Bent's  little 
Vermajo  ranch,  located  in  a  mountain  valley,  left  the 
ravine  and  followed  a  little-used  Ute  trail  that  their 
leader  knew  well.  Hank  wore  the  Blackfoot  distinc- 
tive double  part  in  his  hair  just  above  the  forehead, 
the  isolated  tuft  pulled  down  to  the  bridge  of  his 
nose,  and  fastened  to  his  buckskin  trousers  were  thin 
strips  of  beadwork  made  by  Blackfoot  squaws. 

The  Mexican  herder  working  for  Bent  uneasily 
watched  them  as  they  rode  up  to  his  makeshift  lean-to 
and  demanded  a  change  of  horses,  a  report  of  his 


:274  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

stewardship,  and  the  use  of  his  fire.  They  were  not 
bad  fellows  and  were  generous  with  their  heavenly 
tobacco,  and  finally  his  uneasiness  wore  away  and  he 
gossiped  with  them  while  the  night  more  and  more 
shut  in  his  lavish  fire  and  seemed  to  soften  the  guttural 
polyglot  of  the  two  Indians.  The  white  men  did 
most  of  the  talking,  as  was  usual,  and  could  make 
themselves  understood  in  the  herder's  bastard  Span- 
ish and  they  answered  sociably  his  numerous  ques- 
tions. Had  they  heard  of  the  great  Tejano  army 
marching  to  avenge  the  terrible  defeat  inflicted  by 
the  brave  Armijo  on  their  swaggering  vanguard? 
It  was  the  great  subject  from  the  upper  end  of  the 
Valley  of  Taos  to  the  last  settlement  along  the  Rio 
Grande  and  the  Pecos.  The  ignoble  dogs  of  Tejanos 
had  basely  murdered  the  brave  Mexican  scouting 
party  near  the  Cimarron  Crossing  of  the  Arkansas. 
What  could  the  soldats  of  Mexico  do,  attacked  in  their 
sleep?  Most  of  the  murdered  soldats  had  come  from 
the  Valley  of  Taos,  which  always  had  been  friendly 
to  Texas.  Was  it  true  that  the  Tejanos  spit  fire  on 
dry  nights  and  could  kill  a  full-grown  bull  buffalo 
with  their  bare  hands?  Ah,  they  were  devils  and  the 
sons  of  devils,  those  Tejanos;  and  at  night  all  doors 
were  tightly  barred  in  the  settlements  and  strange 
Americans  regarded  with  suspicion. 

Some  nights  later,  down  the  rough,  steep  sides  of 
the  Arroyo  Hondo,  through  which  trickled  a  ribbon 
of  water  from  a  recent  rain,  four  Indians  rode  care- 
fully, leading  two  pack  animals.  They  were  two 
Arapahoes,  a  Blackfoot,  and  a  Delaware,  and  they  fol- 
lowed the  ravine  and  soon  came  in  sight  of  the  little 


'"SPRESS  FROM  BENT'S''  275 

mountain  pasture,  dotted  with  cedar  bushes  and 
sparsely  covered  with  grass,  which  sloped  gently  down 
the  mountain  side.  In  the  fading  twilight  the  so-called 
ranch  stood  vaguely  outlined,  the  nature  of  its  log 
and  adobe  walls  indiscernible,  its  mill  and  the  still 
house  looming  vaguely  over  the  main  building  against 
the  darker  background  of  the  slope.  The  faint  smell 
of  sour  mash  almost  hid  the  mealy  odor  of  the  grist 
mill;  hogs  grunted  in  the  little  corral  by  the  fenced- 
in  garden,  while  an  occasional  bleating  of  sheep  came 
from  the  same  enclosure.  Dark  shapes  moved  over 
the  cedar-brush  pasture  and  the  frequent  stamping 
of  hoofs  told  they  were  either  horses  or  mules.  High 
up  near  the  roof  of  the  composite  building  were  nar- 
row oblongs  of  faint  radiance,  where  feeble  candle 
light  shone  through  the  little  squares  of  gypsum,  so 
much  used  in  that  country  in  place  of  window  glass. 
As  the  four  new-comers  smilingly  looked  at  the  com- 
fortable building  the  foot-compelling  strains  of  a  cheap 
violin  squeaked  and  rasped  resinously  from  the  living 
quarters  and  a  French-Canadian,  far  from  home,  burst 
ecstatically  into  song.  Dreaming  chickens  cackled 
briefly  and  a  sleepy  rooster  complained  in  restrained 
indignation,  while  the  rocky  mountain  side  relayed 
the  distant  howl  of  a  prowling  coyote. 

The  leader  drew  the  flap  over  the  ultra-modern  rifle 
in  its  sheath  at  his  leg  and  glanced  back  at  his  com- 
panions. 

"Wall,**  he  growled,  "hyar  we  air;  we're  plumb 
inter  it,  now." 

"Up  ter  our  scalp-locks,"  came  a  grunted  reply. 

"  Hell !    Tain't  th'  fust  time  they've  been  in  danger. 


276  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

They'll  stand  a  lot  o'  takin',"  chuckled  another  voice. 
He  softly  imitated  a  coyote  and  the  sleepy  inmates  of 
the  hen  house  burst  into  a  frightened  chorus. 

"Hain't  ye  got  no  sense?"  asked  Hank,  reprovingly. 

"Wouldn't  be  hyar  if  I  had.  I  smell  sour  mash. 
Let's  go  on." 

Hank  kneed  his  mount,  no  longer  the  one  which 
had  become  so  v^ell  known  to  many  eyes  on  the  long 
wagon  trail,  and  led  the  way  down  to  the  door.  At 
the  soft  confusion  of  guttural  tongues  outside  the 
house  the  door  opened  and  Turley,  the  proprietor, 
stood  framed  in  the  dim  light  behind  him. 

"'Spress  from  Sefior  Bent's,"  said  the  nearest  In- 
dian, walking  forward.  "It's  Hank  Marshall,"  he 
whispered.     "Want  ter  palaver  with  ye,  Turley." 

"  Want's  more  whiskey,  I  reckon,"  growled  Turley. 
"Hobble  yer  bosses  on  th'  pasture.  Ye  kin  roll  up 
'most  anywhar  ye  like.     Fed  yit?" 

"5i,  senor;  muchos  gracias"  answered  the  Indian. 
''Senor!  cary  mucho  aguardiente  grano!" 

"Oh,  ye  do?"  sarcastically  replied  Turley. 
"Whiskey,  huh?  Wall,  ye'll  do  better  without  it. 
What's  Bent  want  o'  me?" 

"Aguardiente  de  grano,  senor!" 

Turley  chuckled.  "  He  does,  hey?  I  say  he  picks 
damned  poor  messengers  to  send  fer  whiskey! 
We'll  talk  about  that  tomorrow.  Roll  up  some'rs  in 
yer  blankets  an'  don't  pester  me."  He  stepped  back 
and  the  door  slammed  in  the  eager,  pleading  face  of 
the  Blackfoot,  to  a  chorus  of  disappointed  grunts. 
The  rebuffed  savage  timidly  knocked  on  the  door  and 
it  was  flung  open,  Turley  glaring  down  at  him.    "  Ye 


'"SPRESS  FROM  BENT'S"  277 

heard  what  I  said,  an*  ye  savvied  it !  Reckon  I  want 
four  drunk  Injuns  'round  hyar  all  night?  We  ain't 
a-goin'  ter  have  no  damned  nonsense.  Take  yer  ani- 
mals off  ter  th*  pasture  an'  camp  down  by  th'  crick! 
Vamoose!" 

The  picture  of  pugnacity,  he  stood  in  the  door  and 
watched  them  slowly,  sullenly  obey  him,  and  then 
he  slammed  it  again,  swearing  under  his  breath. 
"  Quickest  way  ter  git  murdered  is  ter  give  them  In- 
juns likker!"  he  growled. 

"Mais,  out/'  said  the  French-Canadian,  placing  his 
fiddle  back  under  his  chin,  and  the  stirring  air  went 
on  again. 

Three  hours  before  dawn  Hank  awoke  and  without 
moving  his  body  let  his  eyes  rove  over  the  dark  pas- 
ture. Then  like  a  flash  of  light  his  heavy  pistol 
jammed  into  the  dark  blotch  almost  at  his  side,  and 
he  growled  a  throaty  inquiry. 

''  It's  me.  Hank,"  came  the  soft  reply.  "Take  that 
damned  thing  away!    What's  up?" 

Three  other  pairs  of  eyes  were  turned  on  them  and 
then  their  owners  stirred  a  little  and  grunted  saluta- 
tions, and  made  slight  rustlings  as  their  hands  re- 
placed what  they  had  held. 

"  Nothin',  only  a  courtin'  party,"  chuckled  Hank. 

"Wall,  I've  heard  tell  o'  courtin'  parties,"  rumi- 
nated Turley;  "but  never  one  made  up  like  Injuns  and 
armed  to  th'  teeth.  Might  know  some  damned  fool 
thing  war  afoot  when  yer  mixed  up  in  it.  Who  ye 
courtin',  at  yer  time  o'  life?     Somebody's  wife?" 

"We're  aimin'  fer  Santer  Fe,"  said  Hank.  "Got 
ter  have  help  ter  git  thar  th'  way  we  wants.     Them 


278  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

Texans  has  made  it  hard  fer  us,  a-stirrin'  up  every- 
thin*  like  they  has." 

"Whar'd  ye  git  yer  hosses?"  anxiously  demanded 
Turley. 

"  Inderpendence,  Missoury,"  innocently  answered 
Hank,  his  grin  lost  in  the  darkness. 

"Then  ye  come  over  th'  wagon  trail,  an'  up  th* 
Arkansas?" 

"Over  th*  wagon  trail  an'  up  th'  Cimarron,  with 
th*  second  caravan  o'  traders.  Come  nigh  straight 
acrost  from  Cold  Spring." 

"Wall,  ril  be  damned!"  muttered  Turley.  Then 
he  snorted.  "Ain't  ye  got  no  sense,  ye  Root  Digger? 
Everybody  in  th'  train'll  know  them  bosses ! " 

"We  swapped  'em  at  Bent's  rancho  on  th'  Vermajo 
—  good  gosh !    Two  o'  'em  come  from  them  Texans ! " 

"They  didn't  have  no  brands,"  said  Tom.  "I 
heard  'em  say  somethin'  about  gettin'  some  at  Bent's. 
We  got  ter  risk  it,  anyhow.  It'll  be  like  addin'  a 
spoonful  o'  freight  ter  a  wagon  load." 

Hank's  mind  was  running  in  a  groove  that  he  had 
been  gouging  deeper  and  longer  hour  after  hour  and 
he  refused  to  be  sidetracked  by  any  question  con- 
cerning the  horses  they  had  changed.  "We  want 
ter  swap  bosses  ag'in  an'  borry  some  rags  fer  clothes ; 
an'  before  daylight,  too." 

Tom  arose  on  one  elbow.  "That's  all  right,  fur's 
it  goes ;  only  it  don't  go  no-whar,"  he  declared.  "  We 
want  ter  git  rid  o'  these  bosses,  an'  we  want  th' 
clothes;  but  that  ain't  all.  We  want  a  job,  Turley. 
Need  any  mule  wranglers  ter  take  some  freight  inter 
Santer  Fe?" 


'''SPRESS  FROM  BENT'S''  279 

"Day  after  tomorrow,"  answered  Turley.  "We 
got  ter  git  rid  o*  these  animals  afore  then,  ye  got 
ter  git  shet  o'  *em  afore  mornin*.  I'll  send  Jacques 
out  ter  take  *em  away  as  soon  as  I  go  back  ter  th' 
house.  Arter  he  leaves  with  *em  I'll  bring  ye  some 
ol'  clothes  so  ye'll  look  a  little  different  from  them 
four  fools  that  swapped  bosses  at  Bent's  rancho.  Th' 
peon  up  thar  won't  git  away,  nor  mebby  see  nobody 
fer  weeks;  but  we  better  take  th'  pelt  afore  th'  meat 
spiles  under  it.  I  got  some  bosses  th'  Utes  stole 
from  th'  'Rapahoes.  We  stole  'em  from  th'  Utes. 
They  ain't  marked,  an'  they  ain't  knowed  down  in 
th'  valley." 

"  But  we'll  still  be  four,"  commented  Tom,  thought- 
fully. 

"That's  shore  a  plain  trail,"  said  Jim  Ogden. 
"Here:  You  an'  Hank  take  a  mule  apiece  an'  go 
back  th'  way  we  come,  fur  a  spell.  Me  an'  Zeb  kin 
freight  whiskey  with  Turley's  ate  jo,  an'  meet  ye  along 
th'  trail  some'rs,  or  in  Santer  Fe,  at  th'  warehouse. 
Ye  kin  load  yer  mules  with  faggots  ter  be  sold  in 
town,  an'  tag  outer  our  mule  train  fer  society 
an'  pertection.  Yer  rifles  kin  be  hid  under  th' 
faggots." 

"  We'll  be  unpackin'  th'  mules  noon  an'  night," 
replied  Tom.     "How  'bout  our  rifles  then?" 

"  Can't  be  did,"  grunted  Hank. 

"  We  got  ter  risk  that  peon  seein'  anybody  ter  talk 
to,"  said  Tom.  "Anyhow,  'tain't  nothin'  unusual  fer 
him  ter  see  fellers  from  th'  fort.  We'll  go  on  with 
th'  atejo,  after  we  make  a  few  changes  in  our  clothes, 
an'  ride  Turley's  bosses  'stead  o'  Bent's.     But  we 


28o  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

can't  jine  that  mule  train  as  no  party  o'  four.  We  got 
ter  lose  that  danged  number,  that's  flat." 

"You  an'  Hank,"  offered  Zeb,  "bein'  Blackfoot  an' 
Delaware,  kin  be  hunters  from  Bent's;  me  an'  Jim, 
bein'  'Rapahoes  turned  friendly,  kin  come  from  St. 
Vrain's  post.  Th'  South  Platte,  up  thar,  is  th'  'Rapa- 
hoe  stampin*  ground  an'  we  both  know  it  from  one 
end  to  t'other.  That'll  count  fer  all  o'  us  havin'  first- 
class  weapons.  Somebody's  shore  goin'  ter  notice 
them." 

Turley  nodded.  "Yes;  hyar's  whar  ye  lose  that 
cussed  four.  You  two  'Rapahoes  git  scarce  afore 
daylight,  goin'  on  foot  an'  leavin'  no  trail.  Come 
back  from  th'  way  o'  th'  old  Ute  trail  from  th'  Bayou 
Salade.  I'm  runnin'  a  little  herdin'  up  o'  my  bosses 
on  th'  side  o'  th'  mounting;  they're  scatterin'  in  th' 
brush  too  much.  Fer  that  I'll  be  needin'  all  my  men 
that  ain't  goin'  as  muleteers.  I'll  hire  you  boys,  two 
at  a  time,  ter  go  'long  with  th'  atejo  as  guards. 
Thar's  thieves  atween  hyar  an'  Santer  Fe  that  likes 
Turley's  whiskey  an'  ground  meal.  I'll  give  ye  a 
writin'  ter  my  agent  in  town  to  pay  ye  off,  an'  ye'll 
git  through,  all  right.  Do  ye  reckon  ye'll  have  ter 
git  outer  Santer  Fe  on  th'  jump?  Seein'  as  how  yer 
so  danged  careful  how  ye  git  inter  th'  town,  it  may 
be  that  ye  ain't  welcome  a  hull  lot.  Knowin'  Hank 
like  I  do,  makes  me  suspicious." 

"We'll  mebby  git  out  quicker'n  scat,"  answered 
Tom,  chuckling.  "They'll  mebby  be  touchy  about 
strangers,  with  them  Texans  prowlin'  'round.  If  we 
git  ter  goin'  strong  as  a  Texan  raid  an'  they  find  out 
that    it's    only    four    no-'count    Injuns    full    o'    Taos 


'''SPRESS  FROM  BENT'S''  281 

lightnin',  they'll  mebby  move  fast.  We  may  make 
quite  a  ruckus  afore  we  git  through,  if  they  find  out 
who  we  air." 

"What  th'  hell  ye  aimin'  ter  do?  Capture  th' 
town?  "  demanded  Turley,  unable  to  longer  hold  down 
his  curiosity. 

"Aimin'  ter  git  our  trade  goods  money,  see  a  young 
lady,  hang  'round  till  th'  return  caravan  start  back 
fer  th*  States,  an'  mebby  squar  up  fer  a  few  o*  them 
Texans  that  didn't  git  ter  Mexico  City,"  answered 
Tom. 

"This  hyar*s  th*  Tom  Boyd  that  slapped  Armijo's 
kiyote  face,"  explained  Hank.  "We  hears  th*  Gov- 
ernor is  lonesome  fer  his  company.** 

"  Great  Jehovah  yes !  '*  exclaimed  Turley.  "  Boyd, 
ye  better  jine  that  thar  caravan  from  Bent's,  meetin* 
up  with  it  at  th*  Crossin*.  Armijo  combed  these 
hyar  mountings  fer  ye,  an*  watched  my  rancho  fer 
nigh  a  week.  He'd  'most  give  his  right  hand  ter  git 
a-holt  o'  you;  an'  if  he  does,  you  kin  guess  what'll 
happen  ter  you !  "  He  peered  curiously  at  the  young 
American  and  shook  his  head.  "I'm  bettin*  ye  do 
leave  on  th*  jump,  if  yer  lucky  enough  ter  leave  at 
all.  Ye'll  need  fresh  bosses,  another  change  o*  clothes 
an*  a  cache  o'  grub.  Tell  ye  what,"  he  said,  turning 
to  Hank.  "  Ye  know  that  little  mounting  valley  whar 
you  an'  me  stopped  fer  two  days,  that  time  we  war 
helpin'  find  th'  bosses  that  war  run  off  Bent's  Vermajo 
rancho?  Wall,  I'll  fix  it  so  these  hyar  bosses  will  be 
waitin'  fer  ye  up  thar.  I  got  some  men  I  kin  trust 
as  long  as  I'm  playin'  agin'  th'  greasers.  I'll  cache 
ye  some  Dupont  an'  Galena,  too,"  he  offered,  referring 


282  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

to  powder  and  lead.  The  latter  came  from  Galena, 
Illinois,  and  took  its  name  from  that  place. 

"An'  forty  pounds  o'  jerked  meat  a  man,"  added 
Hank.  "We  might  have  ter  go  clean  up  ter  th' 
South  Park  afore  we  dast  turn  fer  Bent's.  Hang  it 
on  that  thar  dead  ash  we  used  afore,  or  clost  by  if 
th'  tree's  down.  We  better  leave  ye  some  more  bul- 
lets as  will  fit  our  own  weapons  without  no  doubt. 
We  kin  run  more  in  th'  warehouse  in  Santer  Fe  if 
we  need  'em.  Keep  yer  Galena,  Turley,  an'  leave 
some  patches,  instid,  along  with  our  bullets." 

"  But  we'll  still  be  four  arter  we  leave  hyar,"  ob- 
jected Jim. 

"No,  ye  won't,"  replied  Turley.  "Ye'll  show  up 
in  pairs,  ye'll  jine  in  pairs,  ye'll  ride  an'  'sociate  in 
pairs,  an'  thar'll  be  a  dozen  more  mixin'  up  with 
ye.  Wall,  talk  it  over  among  ye  while  I  gits  busy 
afore  it's  light,"  and  the  friendly  rancher  was  swal- 
lowed up  in  the  night. 

A  few  minutes  later  Jacques,  sleepy  and  grumbling, 
loomed  up  out  of  the  darkness,  collected  the  six 
horses  and  departed  up  the  slope.  Shortly  after  him 
came  Turley  with  a  miscellaneous  collection  of  odds 
and  ends  of  worn-out  clothing  and  soon  his  friends 
had  exchanged  a  garment  or  two  with  him.  Tom 
and  Hank  parted  with  their  buckskin  shirts  and  now 
wore  coarse  garments  of  Pueblo  make;  Zeb  had  a 
Comanche  leather  jerkin  and  Jim  wore  a  blue  cotton 
shirt  patched  with  threadbare  red  flannel.  They 
bound  bands  of  beadwork  or  soft  tanned  skin  around 
their  foreheads,  and  Hank's  hair  proudly  displayed 
two   iridescent  bronze  feathers   from   the   tail  of  a 


'"SPRESS  FROM  BENT'S"  283 

rooster.  If  Joe  Cooper,  himself,  had  come  face  to 
face  with  them  he  would  have  passed  by  without  a 
second  glance. 

Silently  Zeb  and  Jim  melted  into  the  night,  while 
Tom  and  Hank  arose  and  went  around  to  the  wall 
of  the  still  house,  rolled  up  in  their  newly-acquired 
blankets  against  the  base  of  the  adobe  wall  and  slept 
until  discovered  and  awakened  after  dawn  by  one  of 
Turley's  mill  hands,  who  paid  them  a  timid  and  gen- 
uine respect. 

They  loafed  around  all  day,  watching  the  still 
house  with  eager  eyes.  Their  wordless  pleading  was 
in  vain,  however,  for  Turley,  frankly  scowling  at  their 
first  appearance,  totally  ignored  them  thereafter.  Just 
before  dusk  two  half-civilized  Arapahoes  from  St. 
Vrain's  South  Platte  trading  post  swung  down  the 
mountain  side,  cast  avaricious  eyes  on  some  horses 
in  the  pasture,  sniffed  deeply  at  the  still  house,  and 
asked  for  whiskey. 

"Fll  give  ye  whiskey,"  said  Turley  after  a 
moment's  thought,  a  grin  spreading  over  his  face, 
"but  I  won't  give  it  ter  ye  hyar.  If  ye  want  likker 
I'll  give  ye  a  writin'  ter  my  agent  in  Santer  Fe,  an' 
he'll  give  ye  all  yer  porous  skins  kin  hold,  an'  a  jug 
ter  take  away  with  ye." 

"Si,  senor!    Si,  senor!    Muchos  gracias!" 

"  Hold  on  thar !  Hold  yer  bosses ! "  growled  Tur- 
ley. "Ye  don't  reckon  I'm  makin'  ye  no  present,  do 
ye?  Ye  got  ter  earn  that  likker.  If  ye  want  it  bad 
enough  ter  escort  my  atejo  ter  th'  city,  it's  yourn. 
I'm  combin'  my  bosses  outer  th'  brush,  an'  I'm  short- 
handed.     By  gosh!"  he  chuckled,  smiling  broadly. 


284  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

"Thar's  a  couple  more  thirsty  Injuns  *round  hyar, 
some'rs;  hey,  Jacques!  Go  find  them  watch  dogs 
o'  th*  still  house.  They  won't  be  fur  away,  you  kin 
bet.  These  two  an*  them  shore  will  scare  th*  thieves 
plumb  ter  death  all  th'  way  ter  town.  I  kin  feel  my 
ha'r  move!" 

Jacques  returned  shortly  with  Bent's  thirsty  hire- 
lings, and  after  some  negotiations  and  the  promise 
of  horses  for  them  to  ride,  the  Indians  accepted  his 
ofYer.  They  showed  a  little  reluctance  until  he  had 
given  each  of  them  a  drink  of  his  raw,  new  whiskey, 
which  seemed  to  serve  as  fuel  to  feed  a  fire  already 
flaming.  The  bargain  struck,  he  ordered  them  fed 
and  let  them  sleep  on  the  softest  bit  of  ground  they 
could  find  around  the  rancho. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

SANTA  FE 

AFTER  an  early  breakfast  the  atejo  of  nineteen 
mules  besides  the  mulera,  or  bell  mule,  was 
brought  out  of  the  pasture  and  the  aparejos,  leather 
bags  stuffed  with  hay,  thrown  on  their  backs  and 
cinched  fast  with  wide  belts  of  woven  sea-grass,  which 
were  drawn  so  cruelly  tight  that  they  seemed  almost 
to  cut  the  animals  in  two;  this  cruelty  was  a  necessary 
one  and  saved  them  greater  cruelties  by  holding  the 
packs  from  slipping  and  chafing  them  to  the  bone. 
Groaning  from  the  tightness  of  the  cinches  they  stood 
trembling  while  the  huge  cruppers  were  put  into  place 
and  breast  straps  tightened.  Then  the  carga  was 
placed  on  them,  the  whiskey  carriers  loaded  with  a 
cask  on  each  side,  firmly  bound  with  rawhide  ropes; 
the  meal  carriers  with  nearly  one  hundred  fifty  pounds 
in  sacks  on  each  side.  While  the  mules  winced  now, 
after  they  had  become  warmed  up  and  the  hay  of 
the  aparejos  packed  to  a  better  fit,  they  could  travel 
longer  and  carry  the  heavy  burdens  with  greater  ease 
than  if  the  cinches  were  slacked.  The  packing  down 
and  shaping  of  the  aparejo  so  loosened  the  cinch  and 
ropes  that  frequently  it  was  necessary  to  stop  and 
tighten  them  all  after  a  mile  or  so  had  been  put  be- 
hind. 

The   atejo  was  in  charge   of  a  major-domo,   five 

285 


286  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

arrieros,  or  muleteers  and  a  cook,  or  the  madre,  who 
usually  went  ahead  and  led  the  bell  mule.  All  the 
men  rode  well-trained  horses,  and  both  men  and 
horses  from  Turley^s  rancho  were  sleek,  well  fed  and 
contented,  for  the  proprietor  was  known  throughout 
the  valley,  and  beyond,  for  his  kindness,  honesty  and 
generosity;  and  he  was  repaid  in  kind,  for  his  em- 
ployees were  faithful,  loyal,  and  courageous  in  stand- 
ing up  for  his  rights  and  in  defending  his  property. 
Yet  the  time  was  to  come  some  years  hence  when 
his  sterling  qualities  would  be  forgotten  and  he  would 
lose  his  life  at  the  hands  of  the  inhabitants  of  the 
valley. 

The  atejo  swiftly  and  dexterously  packed,  the  two 
pairs  of  bloodthirsty  looking  Indian  guards  divided 
into  advance  and  rear  guard,  the  madre  led  the  bell 
mule  down  the  slope  and  up  the  trail  leading  over 
the  low  mountainous  divide  toward  Ferdinand  de 
Taos,  the  grunting  mules  following  in  orderly  file. 

The  trail  wandered  around  gorges  and  bowlders 
and  among  pine,  cedar,  and  dwarf  oaks  and  through 
patches  of  service  berries  with  their  small,  grapelike 
fruit,  and  crossed  numerous  small  rivulets  carrying 
off  the  water  of  the  rainy  season.  Taos,  as  it  was 
improperly  called,  lay  twelve  miles  distant  at  the  foot 
of  the  other  side  of  the  divide,  and  it  was  reached 
shortly  after  noon  without  a  stop  on  the  way.  The 
"noonings"  observed  by  the  caravans  were  not  al- 
lowed in  an  atejo,  nor  were  the  mules  permitted  to 
stop  for  even  a  moment  while  on  the  way,  for  if 
allowed  a  moments  rest  they  promptly  would  lie 
down,  and  in  attempting  to  arise  under  their  heavy 


SANTA  FE  2%7 


loads  were  likely  to  strain  their  loins  so  badly  as  to 
render  them  forever  unfit  for  work.  To  remove  and 
replace  the  packs  would  take  too  much  time.  Because 
of  the  steady  traveling  the  day's  journey  rarely  ex- 
ceeded five  or  six  hours  nor  covered  more  than 
twelve  to  fifteen  miles. 

Taos  reached,  the  packs  were  removed  and  cov- 
ered by  the  aparejos,  each  pile  kept  separate.  Turned 
out  to  graze  with  the  bell  mule,  without  picket  rope 
or  hobbles,  the  animals  would  not  leave  her  and  could 
be  counted  on,  under  ordinary  circumstances,  to  be 
found  near  camp  and  all  together. 

Taos,  a  miserable  village  of  adobes,  and  the  largest 
town  in  the  valley,  had  a  population  of  a  few  Ameri- 
can and  Canadian  trappers  who  had  married  Mexican 
or  Indian  women;  poor  and  ignorant  Mexicans  of  all 
grades  except  that  of  pure  Spanish  blood,  and  Indians 
of  all  grades  except,  perhaps,  those  of  pure  Indian 
blood.  The  mixed  breed  Indians  had  the  more 
courage  of  the  two,  having  descended  from  the 
Taosas,  a  tribe  still  inhabiting  the  near-by  pueblo, 
whose  warlike  tendencies  were  almost  entirely  dis- 
played in  defensive  warfare  in  the  holding  of  their 
enormous,  pyramidal,  twin  pueblos  located  on  both 
sides  of  a  clear  little  stream.  In  the  earlier  days 
marauding  bands  of  Yutaws  and  an  occasional  war- 
party  of  Cheyennes  or  Arapahoes  had  learned  at  a 
terrible  cost  that  the  Pueblo  de  Taos  was  a  nut  far 
beyond  their  cracking,  and  from  these  expeditions 
into  the  rich  and  fertile  valley  but  few  returned. 

Here  was  a  good  chance  to  test  the  worth  of  their 
disguises,  for  the  three  older  plainsmen  were  well- 


288  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

known  to  some  of  the  Americans  and  Canadians  in 
the  village,  having  been  on  long  trips  into  the  moun- 
tains v^ith  a  few  of  them.  And  so,  after  the  meal  of 
frijoles,  atole  and  jerked  meat,  the  latter  a  great  luxury 
to  Mexicans  of  the  grade  of  arrieros,  Hank  and  his 
two  Arapahoe  companions  left  the  little  encampment 
and  wandered  curiously  about  the  streets,  to  the  edi- 
fication of  uneasy  townsfolk,  whose  conjectures  leaned 
toward  the  unpleasant.  Ceran  St.  Vrain,  on  a  visit 
to  the  town,  passed  them  close  by  but  did  not  recog- 
nize the  men  he  had  seen  for  days  at  a  time  at  his 
trading  post  on  the  South  Platte.  Simonds,  a  hunter 
from  Bent's  Fort,  passed  within  a  foot  of  Hank  and 
did  not  know  him;  yet  the  two  had  spent  a  season 
together  in  the  Middle  Park,  lying  just  across  the 
mountain  range  west  of  Long's  Peak. 

Continuing  on  their  way  the  next  morning  they 
camped  in  the  open  valley  for  the  night,  and  the  next 
day  crossed  a  range  of  mountains.  The  next  village 
was  El  Embudo,  a  miserable  collection  of  mud  huts 
at  the  end  of  a  wretched  trail.  The  Pueblo  de  San 
Juan  and  the  squalid,  poverty-stricken  village  of  La 
Canada  followed  in  turn.  Everywhere  they  found 
hatred  and  ill-disguised  fear  of  the  Texans  roaming 
beyond  the  Canadian.  Next  they  reached  the  Pueblo 
de  Ohuqui  and  here  found  snug  accommodations  for 
themselves  and  their  animals  in  the  little  valley. 
From  the  pueblo  the  trail  lay  through  an  arroyo  over 
another  mountain  and  they  camped  part  way  down 
its  southeast  face  with  Santa  Fe  sprawled  out  below 
them. 

Morning  found  them  going  down  the  sloping  trail, 


SANTA  FE  289 


the  Indian  escort  surreptitiously  examining  their 
rifles,  and  in  the  evening  they  entered  the  collection 
of  mud  houses  honored  by  the  name  of  San  Francisco 
de  la  Santa  Fe,  whose  population  of  about  three  thou- 
sand souls  was  reputed  to  be  the  poorest  in  worldly 
wealth  in  the  entire  province  of  New  Mexico;  and, 
judging  from  the  numbers  of  openly  run  gambling 
houses,  rum  shops  and  worse,  the  town  might  have 
deserved  the  reputation  of  being  the  poorest  in  morals 
and  spiritual  wealth. 

Sprawled  out  under  the  side  of  the  mountain,  its 
mud  houses  of  a  single  story,  its  barracks,  calahozo 
and  even  the  "  palace  "  of  the  governor  made  of  mud, 
with  scarcely  a  pane  of  glass  in  the  whole  town;  its 
narrow  streets  littered  with  garbage  and  rubbish; 
with  more  than  two-thirds  of  its  population  bare- 
footed and  unkempt,  a  mixture  of  Spaniards  and 
Indians  for  generations,  in  which  blending  the  baser 
parts  of  their  natures  seemed  singularly  fitted  to  sur- 
vive; with  cringing,  starving  dogs  everywhere;  full 
of  beggars,  filthy  and  in  most  cases  disgustingly  dis- 
eased, with  hands  outstretched  for  alms,  as  ready  to 
curse  the  tight  of  purse  as  to  bless  the  generous,  and 
both  to  no  avail;  with  its  domineering  soldiery  with- 
out a  pair  of  shoes  between  them,  its  arrogan,t  officers 
in  shiny,  nondescript  uniforms  and  tarnished  gilt,  with 
huge  swords  and  massive  spurs,  to  lead  the  unshod 
mob  of  privates  into  cowardly  retreat  or  leave  them 
to  be  slaughtered  by  their  Indian  foes,  whose  lances 
and  bows  were  superior  in  accuracy  and  execution, 
to  the  ancient  firelocks  so  often  lacking  in  necessary 
parts ;  reputed  to  be  founded  on  the  ruins  of  a  pueblo 


290  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

which  had  flourished  centuries  before  the  later  "  city  " 
and  no  doubt  was  its  superior  in  everything  but 
shameless  immorality.  There,  under  Sante  Fe  moun- 
tain and  the  pure  and  almost  cloudless  blue  sky,  along 
the  Httle  mountain  stream  of  the  same  name,  lay 
Santa  Fe,  the  capital  of  the  department  of  New  Mex- 
ico, and  the  home  of  her  vainglorious,  pompous,  good- 
looking,  and  brutal  governor;  Santa  Fe,  the  greatest 
glass  jewel  in  a  crown  of  tin;  Santa  Fe,  the  customs 
gate  and  the  disappointing  end  of  a  long,  hard  trail. 
Through  the  even  more  filthy  streets  of  the  pov- 
erty-stricken outskirts  of  the  town  went  the  little 
atejo,  disputing  right-of-way  in  the  narrow,  porch- 
crowded  thoroughfares  with  hoja  (corn  husk)  sellers 
and  huge  burro  loads  of  pine  and  cedar  faggots  gath- 
ered from  the  near-by  mountain;  past  the  square 
where  the  mud  hovels  of  the  soldiers  lay;  past  a  mud 
church  whose  tall  spire  seemed  ever  to  be  stretching 
away  from  the  smells  below;  past  odorous  hog  stys, 
crude  mule  corrals  with  their  scarred  and  mutilated 
creatures,  and  sheep  pens,  and  groups  of  avid  cock- 
fighters;  past  open  doors  through  which  the  half- 
breed  women,  clothed  in  a  simple  garment  hanging 
from  the  shoulders,  could  be  seen  cooking  frijoles  or 
the  thin,  watery  atole  and  hovering  around  the  flat 
stones  which  served  for  stoves;  past  these  and  worse 
plodded  the  atejo,  the  shrewd  mules  braying  their 
deHght  at  a  hard  journey  almost  ended.  Sullen 
Indians,  apologetic  Mexicans,  swaggering  and  too 
often  drunken  soldiers  gave  way  to  them,  while  a 
string  of  disputing,  tail-tucking  dogs  followed  at  a 
distance,  ever  wary,  ever  ready  to  wheel  and  run. 


SANTA   FE  291 


Reaching  the  Plaza  Publica,  which  was  so  bare  of 
even  a  blade  of  grass  or  a  solitary  tree,  and  its  ground 
so  scored  and  beaten  and  covered  with  rubbish  to 
suggest  that  it  suffered  the  last  stages  of  some  earthly 
mange,  they  came  to  the  real  business  section  of  the 
town,  where  nearly  every  shop  was  owned  by  for- 
eigners. Around  this  public  plaza  stood  the  archi- 
tectural triumphs  of  the  city.  There  was  the  palacio 
of  the  governor,  with  its  mud  walls  and  its  extended 
roof  supported  on  rough  pine  columns  to  form  a  great 
porch;  the  custom-house,  with  its  greedy,  grafting 
officials;  the  mud  barracks  connected  to  the  atrocious 
and  much  dreaded  calabozo,  whose  inmates  had  aban- 
doned hope  as  they  crossed  its  threshold;  the  mud 
city  hall,  the  military  chapel,  fast  falling  into  ruin, 
and  a  few  dwellings.  The  interest  attending  the  pass- 
ing of  the  atejo  increased  a  little  as  the  pack  train 
crossed  this  square,  for  the  Indian  guards  were  con- 
spicuous by  their  height  and  by  the  breadth  of 
shoulder,  and  the  excellence  of  their  well-kept  weap- 
ons. Strangers  were  drawing  more  critical  attention 
these  days,  with  the  Texan  threat  hanging  over  the 
settlements  along  the  Pecos  and  the  Rio  Grande. 
Peon  women  and  Indian  squaws  regarded  the  four 
with  apparent  approval  and  as  they  left  the  square 
and  plunged  into  the  poorer  section  again,  compH- 
ments  and  invitations  reached  their  ears.  Hopeless 
mosos,  or  ill-paid  servants,  most  of  them  kept  in 
actual  slavery  by  debts  they  never  could  pay  off  be- 
cause of  the  system  of  accounting  used  against  them, 
regarded  the  four  enviously  and  yearned  for  their 
freedom. 


292  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

Of  the  four  Indians,  a  tall,  strapping  Delaware, 
stooping  to  be  less  conspicuous,  whose  face  was  the 
dirtiest  in  the  atejo,  suddenly  stiffened  and  then  forced 
himself  to  relax  into  his  former  lazy  slouch.  The 
rattle  of  an  imported  Dearborn,  which  at  all  times 
had  to  be  watched  closely  to  keep  its  metal  parts  from 
being  stripped  off  and  stolen,  filled  the  street  as  the 
vehicle  rocked  along  the  ruts  toward  them,  drawn 
by  two  good  horses  and  driven  by  one  Joseph  Cooper, 
of  St.  Louis,  Missouri.  At  his  side  sat  his  niece,  look- 
ing with  wondering  and  disapproving  eyes  about  her, 
her  pretty  face  improved  by  its  coat  of  healthy  tan, 
but  marred  somewhat  by  the  look  of  worry  it  so 
plainly  showed.  She  appeared  sad  and  wistful,  but 
at  times  her  thoughts  leaped  far  away  and  brought 
her  fleeting  smiles  so  soft,  so  tender,  as  to  banish  the 
look  of  worry  and  for  an  instant  set  a  glory  there. 

Her  glance  took  in  the  little  pack  train  and  its 
stalwart  guards  and  passed  carelessly  over  the  bend- 
ing Delaware,  and  then  returned  to  linger  on  him 
while  one  might  count  five.  Then  he  and  the  atejo 
passed  from  sight  and  she  looked  ahead  again,  unsee- 
ing, for  her  memory  was  racing  along  a  wagon  road, 
and  became  a  blank  in  a  frightful,  all-night  storm. 
At  her  sigh  Uncle  Joe  glanced  sidewise  at  her  and 
took  a  firmer  grip  on  his  vile  native  cigar,  and  silently 
cursed  the  day  she  had  left  St.  Louis. 

"  Load  of  wheat  whiskey  from  th'  rancho,  I  reckon," 
he  said,  and  pulled  sharply  on  the  reins  to  keep  from 
running  over  a  hypnotized  ring  of  cock-fighters. 
"How  your  paw  can  live  all  th*  year  'round  in  this 
fester  of  a  town  is  a  puzzle  to  me.     Fd  rather  be  in 


SANTA  FE  293 


a  St.  Louis  jail.  Cigar?"  he  sneered,  yanking  it  from 
his  mouth  and  regarding  it  with  palpitant  disgust. 
He  savagely  hurled  it  from  him.    "Hell!" 

A  tangle  of  arms  and  legs  rolled  out  of  a  rum  shop 
and  fought  impotently  in  the  dust  of  the  street,  and 
sotted  faces  grinned  down  at  them  from  the  crowded 
door.  A  flaky-skinned  beggar  slouched  from  behind 
the  corner  of  the  building  and  held  out  an  imploring 
hand,  which  the  driver's  contemptuous  denial  turned 
into  a  clenched  fist  afloat  in  a  sea  of  Spanish  maledic- 
tions. 

The  pack  train  having  reached  its  destination,  the 
two  pairs  of  guards,  clutching  their  "writin'"  from 
Turley,  departed  in  hot  haste  to  claim  their  pay- 
ment, and  not  long  thereafter,  rifleless,  wandered 
about  on  foot  to  see  the  sights,  gaping  and  curious. 
In  the  hand  of  each  was  a  whiskey  jug,  the  cynosure 
of  all  eyes.  The  Plaza  Pnhlica  seemed  to  fascinate 
them,  for  they  spent  most  of  their  time  there;  and 
when  they  passed  the  guard  house  in  the  palacio  they 
generously  replied  to  the  coaxing  banter  of  the  guard 
oflF  watch,  and  went  on  again  with  lightened  jugs. 
Here  as  elsewhere  they  sensed  a  poorly  hidden  feel- 
ing of  unrest,  and  hid  their  smiles;  somewhere  north 
of  Texas  the  Tejanos  rode  with  vengeance  in  their 
hearts  and  certain  death  in  their  heretic  rifles.  No 
one  knew  how  close  they  might  be,  or  what  moment 
they  would  storm  into  the  town  behind  their  deadly 
weapons.  But  the  fear  was  largely  apathetic,  for 
these  people,  between  the  Apache  and  Comanche  raids 
of  year  after  year,  had  suckled  fear  from  their 
mothers'  breasts. 


294  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

Finally,  apprehensive  of  the  attention  they  were 
receiving,  the  strange  Indians  left  the  plaza  and 
sought  refuge  with  the  mules  of  the  atejo,  to  remain 
there  until  after  dark;  and  at  their  passing,  groups 
of  excited  women  or  quarreling  children  resumed  their 
gambling  in  the  streets  and  all  was  serene  again. 

Gambling  here  was  no  fugitive  evader  of  the  law, 
no  crime  to  be  enjoyed  in  secret,  but  was  an  institu- 
tion legalized  and  flourishing.  There  even  was  a 
public  gaming  house,  where  civil  officers,  traders,  mer- 
chants, travelers,  and  the  clergy  grouped  avidly 
around  the  monte  tables  and  played  at  fever  heat, 
momentarily  beyond  the  reach  of  any  other  obsession. 
Regularly  the  governor  and  his  wife  graced  the  temple 
of  chance  with  their  august  persons  and  held  informal 
levees  among  the  tables,  making  the  place  a  Mecca 
for  favor-seekers  and  sycophants,  and  a  golden  treas- 
ury for  the  "  house."  At  this  time,  so  soon  after  the 
arrival  of  two  great  caravans  and  the  collection  of 
so  much  impost,  part  of  which  stuck  to  every  finger 
that  handled  it,  the  play  ran  high  throughout  the 
crowded  room. 

The  round  of  festivities  attending  the  arrival  of 
the  wagon  trains  were  not  yet  stilled,  and  fandangoes 
nightly  gave  hilarity  a  safety  valve.  Great  lumbering 
carretas,  their  wheels  cut  from  solid  sections  of  tree 
trunks  and  the  whole  vehicle  devoid  of  even  a  single 
scrap  of  precious  iron,  shrieked  and  rattled  through 
the  dark  streets,  filled  with  shoddy  cavaliers  and 
dazzling  women,  whose  dresses  seemed  planned  to 
tempt  the  resolutions  of  a  saint.  Rehosa  or  lace 
mantilla  over  full,  rounded,  dark  and  satiny  breasts; 


SANTA   FE  295 


fans  wielded  with  an  inherited  art,  to  coax  and  repel 
the  victims  of  great  and  smouldering  eyes  of  jet,  which 
melted  one  moment  to  blaze  the  next  —  this  was  the 
magic  segment  of  the  clock's  round.  Now  the  eye- 
sores of  the  squalid  town  were  hidden  from  critical 
sight,  and  the  alluring  softness  and  mystery  of  an 
ancient  Spanish  city  made  one  forget  the  almost  un- 
forgetable.  Life  and  Death  danced  hand  in  hand; 
Love  and  Hate  bowed  and  courtesied,  and  the  mad 
green  fires  of  Jealousy  flickered  or  flared;  while  the 
poverty  and  the  sordid  tragedies  of  the  day  gave 
place  to  tingling  Romance  in  the  feathery  night. 
Violins  and  guitars  caressed  the  darkness  with  throb- 
bing strains,  catching  the  breath,  tingling  the  nerves 
and  turning  dull  flesh  to  pulsing  ecstasy. 

To  the  fandango  came  a  flower  of  a  far-off  French- 
American  metropolis,  strangely  listless;  and  here  felt 
her  blood  slowly  transmute  to  wine  and  every  nerve 
become  a  harp-string  to  make  sad  music  for  her  soul. 

Small  wonder  that  Armijo  stood  speechless  in  the 
sight  of  such  a  one  as  she,  and  forgot  to  press  his 
questioning  as  to  four  who  had  somewhere  left  that 
wagon  train;  small  wonder  that  he  gave  no  heed  to 
men  in  the  presence  of  this  exotic  flower  not  yet  un- 
folded, in  whose  veins  the  French  blood  of  the  mother 
coursed  with  the  Saxon  of  the  father,  and  played 
strange  and  wondrous  pranks  in  delicate  features, 
vivacious  eyes,  and  hidden  whimsicalities  now  begin- 
ning to  peek  forth. 

The  coarse  sensuality  of  the  governor's  face  re- 
vealed his  thoughts  to  all  the  room;  his  eyes  never 
had  known  the  need  to  mask  the  sheerness  of  their 


296  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

greedy  passion,  and  in  such  a  moment  could  not  dis- 
semble. What  man  like  him,  in  his  place  and  power, 
with  his  nature,  would  glance  twice  at  a  lazy,  dirty 
Indian  looking  in  through  the  open  door,  or  know 
that  the  murder  beast  was  tearing  at  its  moral  fetters 
in  the  Delaware's  seething  soul?  Without  again 
taking  his  burning  eyes  from  the  woman  before  him 
the  governor  tossed,  by  force  of  habit,  a  copper  coin 
through  the  door,  alms  to  a  beggar  to  bring  him  luck 
from  heaven  to  further  his  plans  from  hell.  Nor  did 
he  know  the  magazine  his  contemptuous  gift  had  set 
aflame,  nor  see  the  convulsive  struggle  between  the 
Delaware  and  three  other  Indians.  The  guard 
laughed  sneeringly  at  the  fight  they  made,  three 
to  one,  over  a  single  piece  of  copper:  Who  was  to 
know  that  they  fought  over  a  hollow  piece  of  steel, 
charged  twice  times  three  with  leaden  death?  W^ho 
was  to  read  the  desperation  in  that  furious  struggle, 
where  a  beast-man  fought  like  a  fiend  against  his 
closest  friends?  The  struggling  four  reeled  and 
stumbled  from  the  house,  leading  away  a  fiery  tempest 
and  faded  into  the  crooning  night.  That  open  door 
nearly  had  been  an  Open  Door,  indeed! 

Within  the  room  the  vivacity  died  in  the  woman's 
eyes,  the  whimsicalities  drew  back  in  sudden  panic 
at  the  beast  look  on  the  governor's  face;  the  swing 
was  gone  from  the  strumming  music,  the  rhythm  from 
the  swaying  dance.  At  once  the  festive  room  was 
a  pit  of  slime,  the  smiling  faces  but  mocking  masks, 
and  the  dark  shadow  of  a  vulture  descended  like  a 
suffocating  gas.  Like  a  flash  the  wall  dissolved  to 
show  a  long,  clean  trail,  winding  from  Yesterday  into 


SANTA  FE  297 


Tomorrow ;  restful  glades  and  creeks  of  shining  sands, 
windswept  prairies  and  a  clear,  blue  sky;  verdant 
glades  and  miles  of  flowers  —  and  a  tall,  dark  youth 
with  smiling  face,  who  worshiped  reverently  with 
tender  eyes.  She  drew  herself  up  as  white  streaks 
crossed  her  crimson  cheeks  like  some  darting  rapier 
blade,  and,  bowing  coldly  to  the  pompous  governor, 
stood  rigidly  erect  and  stared  for  a  full  half-minute 
into  his  astonished  eyes,  and  made  them  fall.  De- 
liberately and  with  unutterable  scorn  and  loathing 
she  turned  from  him  to  her  father  and  her  uncle, 
who  forthwith  shattered  the  absurd  rules  of  pomp 
by  showing  him  their  broad  backs  and  leaving  at 
once.  The  room  hushed  as  they  walked  toward  the 
door,  but  no  man  stayed  them,  for  on  their  faces  there 
blazed  the  sign  of  Death. 

Armijo,  still  staring  after  them,  waved  his  hand 
and  three  men  slipped  out  by  another  door,  to  follow 
and  to  learn  what  sanctuary  that  flower  might  choose. 
As  he  wheeled  about  and  snapped  a  profane  order  the 
fiddlers  and  strummers  stumbled  into  their  stammer- 
ing music;  the  dance  went  on  again,  with  ragged 
rhythm,  like  an  automaton  out  of  gear. 

Down  the  dark  street  rumbled  the  Dearborn,  rock- 
ing perilously,  the  clatter  of  the  running  horses  filling 
the  narrow  way  with  clamor.  Sprinting  at  top  speed 
behind  it  came  barefoot  soldiers:  And  then  a  human 
avalanche  burst  from  a  pitch  dark  passageway.  The 
Dearborn  rocked  on  and  turned  a  corner;  the  soldiers 
groped  like  blinded,  half-stunned  swimmers  and  as 
the  secretive  moments  passed,  they  stumbled  to  their 
feet  and  staggered  back  again  with  garbled  tales  of 


298 ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

prowling  monsters,  and  crossed  themselves  continu- 
ously. About  the  time  the  frightened  soldiers  reached 
the  house  they  had  set  out  from,  four  Indians  crept 
along  an  adobe  wall  and  knocked  a  signal  on  the 
studded  planks  of  a  heavy,  warehouse  door.  There 
came  no  creaking  from  its  well-oiled  hinges  as  it 
slowly  opened,  stopped,  and  swiftly  shut  again,  and 
left  the  dark  and  smelly  courtyard  empty. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE  RENDEZVOUS 

ENOCH  BIRDSALL  stared  in  amazement  at  the 
four  he  had  admitted,  despite  the  remembrance 
of  the  names  they  had  whispered  through  the  crack  of 
the  partly  opened  door,  the  Hght  from  a  single  candle 
making  gargoyles  of  their  hideously  painted  faces. 
Alonzo  Webb  was  peering  along  the  barrel  of  a  new- 
fangled Colt,  his  eyes  mere  pin-points  of  concentra- 
tion, his  breathing  nearly  suspended. 

Hank's  low,  throaty  laughter  filled  the  dim  build- 
ing and  he  slapped  Tom  on  the  shoulder.  "Didn't 
I  say  I  could  fix  us  up  so  our  own  mothers  wouldn't 
know  us?"  he  demanded. 

"God  help  us!"  said  Enoch  in  hopelessly  inade- 
quate accents  as  he  groped  behind  him  for  his  favorite 
cask.  He  seated  himself  with  great  deliberation. 
"When  Turley's  man  Allbright  brought  aroun'  yer 
rifles  in  a  packload  o'  hay,  I  knowed  we'd  be  seein' 
ye  soon;  an'  he  told  us  plain  that  four  Injuns  had 
left  'em  with  him.    But ;  h— 1 ! " 

Alonzo  had  cautiously  put  away  the  Colt  and  was 
readjusting  his  facial  expression  to  suit  the  changed 
conditions.  Then  he  suddenly  leaned  back  against  a 
bale  of  tobacco  leaf,  jammed  an  arm  tightly  against 
his  mouth,  and  laughed  until  he  was  limp. 

Zeb  Houghton  glared  at  him  in  offended  dignity, 

299 


300 ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

not  knowing  just  what  to  say,  but  determined  to  say 
something.  He  felt  embarrassed  and  slightly  huffed. 
"Caravan  have  airy  trouble  arter  we  left  it?"  he 
asked. 

"Trouble?"  queried  Enoch,  a  wise  grin  wreathing 
his  face.  "Some  o*  us  made  more  profits  this  year 
than  we  ever  did  afore.  Soon's  we  found  thar  warn't 
no  custom  guard  ter  meet  us  at  Cold  Spring,  thanks 
ter  them  Texans,  we  sent  some  riders  ahead  from 
th'  ford  o'  th'  Canadian,  an'  Woodson  held  th'  cara- 
van thar  in  camp  fer  a  couple  o'  days.  Them  greaser 
rancheros  air  half  starved  *most  all  year  'round  an' 
they  jumped  at  th'  chance  ter  earn  some  good  U.  S. 
gold.  Some  o'  us  had  quite  some  visitors  one  night 
an'  some  o'  th'  waggins,  ourn  among  'em,  shore 
strayed  away  from  th'  encampment  an'  got  lost  in 
th'  hills.  He  had  said  somethin'  'bout  not  wantin' 
to  waste  so  much  time,  an'  o'  takin'  a  short-cut;  an' 
everybody  war  so  excited  about  bein'  so  clost  ter 
Santer  Fe,  an'  by  this  time  used  ter  folks  goin'  on 
ahead,  that  we  warn't  hardly  missed.  Them  that  did 
miss  us  soon  forgot  it.  We're  ahead  five  hundred 
dollars  a  waggin,  besides  th'  other  imposts  an'  th' 
salve  money;  our  waggins  air  waitin'  fer  us  when 
we  go  back,  an'  our  goods  air  comin'  in  from  th' 
ranchos  in  carretas  an'  by  pack  mule,  under  hay,  hoja 
an'  faggots,  an'  other  stuff.  Thar's  them  two  axles 
o'  Joe  Cooper's  that  he  war  so  anxious  about  back 
at  th*  Grove  an'  at  every  stream  we  had  ter  cross. 
Thar  empty  now,  but  thar  war  plumb  full  o'  high- 
class  contraband  when  they  got  here.  Woodson  slung 
'em  under  one  o'  his  waggins  that  come  through  on 


THE   RENDEZVOUS  301 

th'  reg'lar  trail,  an'  brought  *em  in.  Over  thar's 
what's  left  o'  your  stuff." 

"  Have  you  fellers  looked  in  a  glass  yit  ?  "  demanded 
Alonzo,  taking  a  mirror  from  the  w^all.  "  Hyar,  Boyd, 
whichever  ye  air,  see  what  ye  look  like." 

The  passing  of  the  mirror  and  the  candle  was  the 
cause  of  much  hilarity,  and  the  room  was  filled  with 
subdued  merriment  until  there  came  a  peculiar  knock 
on  the  massive  door.  The  candle  flame  struggled 
under  a  box  while  voices  murmured  at  the  portal, 
and  then  there  came  a  cautious  shufHing  of  feet  until 
the  box  was  removed. 

Joe  Cooper's  curious  glance  became  a  stare  and 
his  jaw  dropped.  Tearing  his  eyes  from  the  faces 
of  the  villainous  four  he  used  them  to  ask  a  ques- 
tion of  the  grinning  Enoch  which  his  lips  w^ere  in- 
capable of  framing. 

Enoch  looked  at  the  four.  "  One  o*  ye,  who  knows 
who's  who,  interduce  yer  friends  ter  Mr.  Cooper,  o' 
St.  Louis,  Mi^oury,"  he  suggested. 

Hank  shoved  Jim  Ogden  a  step  forward.  "This 
'Rapahoe  is  Jim  Ogden,  o'  Bent's  Fort  an'  th'  Rockies; 
this  other  un  is  Zeb  Houghton,  o'  th'  Louisiana  Pur- 
chase, Mexico  an'  Texas;  hyar's  Tom  Boyd,  hopin' 
ter  save  his  ear-tabs;  an'  I'm  — "  from  his  mouth 
sounded  the  twang  of  a  bowstring. 

Uncle  Joe  sank  down  on  a  pile  of  smuggled  Mack- 
inaw blankets,  shoved  a  cigar  in  his  mouth,  lit  it  and 
took  several  puffs  before  he  slammed  it  on  the  floor 
and  crushed  it  with  his  foot.  Then  he  recovered  him- 
self, joyously  shook  hands  all  around  and  started  a 
conversation  that  scorned  the  flying  minutes.     Dur- 


302  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

ing  a  lull  Alonzo  looked  shrewdly  at  the  cheerful 
Indians  and  put  his  thoughts  into  words. 

"  Boys,  anythin'  weVe  got  is  yourn  f er  th*  askin'/* 
he  slowly  said ;  "  but  I'd  hate  ter  reckon  it  war  through 
me  an*  Enoch  that  ye  lost  yer  lives,  an'  yer  ears.  We 
all  war  clost  friends  in  Independence  an*  on  th'  trail. 
Clost  friends  o*  yourn  air  goin*  ter  be  watched  like 
sin  from  now  on.  Tom  Boyd  an*  his  friends  left  th* 
caravan  ter  go  ter  Bent's  —  an*  a  passel  o'  greasers 
went  arter  *em  hot  foot.  Mebby  th'  first  gang  didn't 
git  ter  Bent's  —  an*  it*s  shore  th*  greasers  ain't  showed 
up  yit  —  not  one  o*  them.  Bad  as  Armijo  is  he  ain't 
no  fool  by  a  danged  sight.  Fer  yer  own  sakes  ye 
better  stay  with  Armstrong  till  ye  leave  th'  city.  Now 
that  I've  warned  ye,  I  don't  give  a  cuss  what  ye  do; 
yer  welcome  ter  stay  hyar  till  yer  bones  rot  —  an*  ye 
know  it.** 

Tom  nodded.  "Yer  right,  Alonzo.  I  just  got  a 
brand  new  reason  fer  livin'  till  th'  return  caravan  gits 
past  th*  Arkansas.  Patience  Cooper  has  got  to  go 
with  it;  she  ain't  a-goin*  ter  spend  no  winter  hyar, 
if  /  kin  help  it  —  an*  if  she  does  stay,  then  I  do,  too» 
ears  or  no  ears.'*  His  face  tensed,  his  eyes  gleaming 
with  hatred  through  the  paint  and  dirt.  "I  come 
nigh  ter  commitin*  murder  tonight.  *Twasn*t  my  fault 
that  I  didn't." 

Hank  clapped  him  on  the  shoulder  and  turned  to 
Uncle  Joe.  "  We  war  all  a-lookin*  in  at  th*  fandango,** 
he  explained.  "It  war  a  mighty  clost  shave  fer  th* 
sheep-stealin*  shepherd  o*  Chavez  rancho,  that  growed 
up  ter  be  governor.  If  *twarn*t  fer  th*  gal  I'd  never 
*a*  grabbed  Boyd." 


THE  RENDEZVOUS  303 

Uncle  Joe  shook  his  head.  "There'll  be  trouble 
comin*  out  o'  that,'*  he  declared.  "We  couldn't  do 
nothin*  else,  but  Armijo'll  never  rest  till  he  wipes 
out  th*  insult  o'  our  turnin'  our  backs  on  him  an*  leavin' 
like  we  did.  An*  did  ye  see  th'  look  she  gave  him? 
D — d  if  it  wasn't  worth  th'  trip  from  Missouri  to  see 
it!  Us  Americans  ain't  loved  a  whole  lot  out  here, 
an'  them  blessed  Texans  has  gone  an*  made  things 
worse.  I  wish  we  all  were  rollin'  down  to  th'  Crossin'. 
Patience  is  goin*  back.  I've  argued  that  out,  anyhow; 
right  up  to  th'  handle ! " 

"  Get  her  out  of  town  now,'*  urged  Tom,  wriggling 
forward  on  his  box.  "Us  four'U  whisk  her  up  to 
Bent's,  an*  jine  ye  at  th'  Crossin'." 

"  If  we  do  that  her  father  will  have  to  leave,  too," 
replied  Uncle  Joe;  "an'  he's  stubborn  as  a  mule, 
Adam  is.  He  says  it'll  be  forgotten,  an'  if  we  make 
a  play  like  that  it'll  raise  th'  devil." 

"When  her  safety  is  at  stake?"  sharply  demanded 
Tom. 

"  He  says  she  ain't  in  no  danger.  Him  an*  Armijo 
is  real  friendly.  Adam  is  th*  one  man  th*  Americans 
in  this  town  depend  on  ter  git  'em  a  little  justice. 
I've  been  arguin*  with  him  tonight,  an*  I  aim  to  keep 
on  arguin';  but  he's  set.    I  know  Adam." 

Tom  cursed  and  arose  to  his  feet.  "An*  /  know 
Armijo!  I  know  his  vile  history  like  a  book,  for  I 
took  pains  to  learn  it.  His  whole  career  is  built  on 
treachery,  sheep-stealin*,  double-dealin*  and  assassina- 
tion. He  robbed  Chavez  of  thousands  of  sheep  — 
even  stealing  them  and  selling  them  back  to  their 
rightful   owner.     He   sold   one   little   flock  back   to 


304  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

Chavez  over  a  dozen  times,  an'  had  stolen  it  from 
him  in  th'  beginnin*.  Then  he  dealt  monte  and  made 
a  pile.  Then  he  was  made  chief  custom  house  officer 
in  this  town,  got  caught  at  some  of  his  tricks  an' 
kicked  out.  Governor  Perez  put  another  man  in  his 
place.  The  condition  of  politics  in  Mexico  worked  in 
Armijo's  favor  and  he  stirred  up  a  ferment,  headed 
a  conspiracy,  raised  a  force  of  about  a  thousand  Mexi- 
cans an*  Pueblo  Indians  up  at  La  Canada,  and  when 
Perez  moved  against  him  Perez's  troops  went  over 
to  Armijo  and  the  old  governor  had  to  flee  to  this 
town,  and  out  of  it  on  th'  jump.  With  him  went  a 
score  or  so  of  his  personal  friends;  but  the  next  day 
the  little  party  was  caught,  more  than  a  dozen  of 
them  put  to  death,  an'  Perez  was  murdered  in  the 
outskirts  of  this  town  and  his  body  dragged  around 
through  the  streets.  Armijo  had  not  shown  his  hand 
openly  and  the  new  governor  was  one  of  the  active 
leaders  of  the  insurrection.  This  did  not  suit  Armijo, 
who  was  playing  for  big  stakes,  and  he  started  an- 
other revolution,  adopted  Federalism  for  a  cloak, 
drove  the  insurgent  governor  from  the  city,  later  shot 
him  and,  after  declaring  himself  governor,  had  his 
appointment  made  official  by  the  Federal  government 
at  Mexico  City,  and  ever  since  has  played  tyrant 
without  a  check.  That's  Adam  Cooper's  so-called 
friend.  That's  the  man  he  trusts.  God  help  Adam; 
an'  God  help  Armijo  if  he  harms  Patience  Cooper!" 
His  friends  nodded,  for  they  knew  that  he  spoke 
the  truth;  and  Uncle  Joe  thoughtlessly  lit  another 
cigar  before  he  remembered  its  make.  "Adam's  last 
cent  is  sunk  out  here,"  he  remarked.     "He  says  he 


THE  RENDEZVOUS  305 

ain*t  goin'  to  turn  himself  inter  a  pauper  an'  flee  for 
his  life  just  because  his  fool  brother  is  a-scared  of 
shadows.  He  says  th'  beast  was  drunk  tonight  an' 
didn't  know  what  he  was  doin'." 

Tom  spread  out  his  hands  helplessly,  and  then 
clenched  them.  He  paced  a  few  turns  and  stopped 
again.  "All  right,  Uncle  Joe;  he's  her  father  and 
he's  backin'  his  best  judgment.  I'm  an  outsider  an' 
have  nothin'  to  say.  Boys,"  he  said,  looking  at  his 
three  hunter  friends,  "we  got  work  ter  do.  We  got 
ter  watch  Patience  Cooper  every  minute  that  she's 
out  o'  th'  house.  Thar's  too  much  at  stake  fer  us  to 
rendezvous  hyar,  we'll  stay  at  Armstrong's.  Enoch, 
git  our  rifles  over  thar  as  soon  as  ye  kin.  I  want 
another  repeatin'  pistol,  in  a  leather  case,  to  hang 
under  my  shirt,  below  my  left  arm-pit.  Thank  th' 
Lord  that  Turley's  plantin'  a  relay  fer  us  up  in  th' 
mountains;  I'm  bettin'  we'll  need  it  bad."  He  looked 
at  Hank.  "Bet  it's  eighty  mile  to  that  place,  ain't 
it?" 

"Th*  way  we  come  it  is,"  replied  the  hunter.  "I 
know  a  straighter  trail  that  ain't  got  so  many  people 
Hvin'  along  it.  It's  twenty  mile  shorter,  but  harder 
travelin'." 

"  If  thar's  anybody  at  Bent's  ranch  on  th'  Purga- 
toire,  we  might  pick  up  a  re-mount  thar,"  muttered 
Tom.  "  That'd  give  us  fresh  bosses  fer  th'  last  ninety 
miles  to  th'  fort;  but  we'll  have  ter  cross  th'  wagon 
road  ter  git  thar." 

"We'll  use  that  fer  th'  second  bar'l,"  said  Hank. 
"I  know  a  better  way,  over  an  old  Ute  trail  leadin' 
toward  th'  Bayou  Salade;  but  we'll  have  bosses  at 


3o6  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

Bent's  ranch  if  I  kin  git  word  ter  Holt,  Carson  or 
Bill  Bent.  We  better  go  'round  an'  see  Armstrong 
right  away;  he  may  know  o'  somebody  that's  goin' 
up  on  th'  trail  through  Raton  Pass.  He'll  do  anythin' 
fer  me." 

"  Cover  th'  candle,"  sa'id  Tom.  "  Give  us  our  rifles ; 
we  kin  carry  'em  all  right  at  this  time  o'  night,  with 
everybody  stayin'  indoors  on  account  o'  th'  Texans. 
Any  time  ye  have  news  fer  us,  Enoch,  an'  can't  git 
it  ter  Armstrong's,  set  a  box  outside  th'  door." 

"  It'll  be  stole,"  said  Enoch,  grinning. 

"Then  set  somethin'  else  out." 

"That'll  be  stole,  too." 

"What  will?" 

"Anythin'  we  put  out." 

"God  help  us!"  ejaculated  Uncle  Joe.  "Try  a 
busted  bottle." 

"Glass?"  laughed  Alonzo,  derisively.  "No  good. 
If  you  kin  think  o'  anythin'  that  won't  be  stole,  I 
shore  want  to  larn  o'  it."  He  considered  a  moment. 
"Hyar!  If  I  git  flour  on  my  elbow  an'  brush  ag'in 
th'  door,  we  got  news  fer  ye.  I  don't  think  they  kin 
steal  that,  not  all  o'  it,  anyhow ! " 

Enoch  nodded.  "If  thar's  any  news  we'll  git  it. 
This  is  th'  meetin'  place  o'  most  o'  th'  Americans 
hyar.  Thar  banded  purty  clost  together  an'  have 
made  Armijo  change  his  tune  a  couple  o'  times.  Onct 
they  war  accused  o'  conspiracy  ag'in  th'  government, 
which  war  a  danged  lie,  an'  th'  scarecrow  troops  war 
ordered  out  ag'in  'em;  but  we  put  up  such  a  fierce 
showin'  that  Armijo  climbed  down  from  his  high  boss 
an'  nothin'  come  o'  it  except  hard  feelin's.     Thats 


THE  RENDEZVOUS 307 

one  o'  th'  reasons,  I  reckon,  why  Adam  Cooper  ain't 
worryin'  as  much  as  he  might  about  his  dater's  safety. 
An'  lookin'  at  it  from  a  reasonable  standpoint,  I'm 
figgerin'  he's  right.  Boyd,  hyar,  would  worry  power- 
ful if  she  got  a  splinter  in  her  finger." 

After  the  laughter  had  subsided  and  a  little  more 
talk  the  four  plainsmen  slipped  out  of  the  building 
and  cautiously  made  their  way  to  Armstrong's  store 
and  dwelling  where,  after  a  whispered  palaver  at  the 
heavy  door,  they  were  admitted  by  the  sleepy  owner 
of  the  premises  and  shown  where  they  could  spread 
their  blankets.  In  the  faint  light  of  the  candle  they 
saw  other  men  lying  about  on  the  hard  floor,  who 
stirred,  grumbled  a  little,  and  went  back  to  sleep 
again. 

When  they  awakened  the  next  morning  they  recog- 
nized two  old  friends  from  Bent's  Fort,  a  trader  from 
St.  Vrain's,  and  an  American  hunter  and  trapper  from 
the  Pueblo  near  the  junction  of  the  Arkansas  and  Boil- 
ing Spring  Rivers.  The  simple  breakfast  was  soon 
dispatched  and  gossip  and  news  exchanged,  and  then 
Hank  led  aside  a  hunter  named  Hatcher,  who  stood 
high  at  Bent's  Fort,  and  earnestly  conversed  with 
him.  In  a  few  moments  Hank  turned,  looked  reas- 
suringly at  Tom  and  smiled.  Bent's  little  ranch  on 
the  Purgatoire  was  being  worked  and  improved  and 
there  would  be  men  and  a  relay  of  horses  there,  pro- 
viding that  the  Utes  overlooked  the  valley  in  the 
meantime. 

All  that  day  they  remained  indoors  and  when  night 
came  they  slipped  out,  one  by  one,  and  drifted  back 
to  the  corral  where  the  atejo  still  remained.     They 


3o8  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

had  lost  their  rifles,  were  sullen  and  taciturn  from 
too  much  drink,  and  paid  no  attention  to  the  knowing 
grins  of  the  friendly  muleteers.  Thenceforth  they 
drew  only  glances  of  passing  interest  on  the  streets, 
no  one  giving  a  second  thought  to  the  stolid,  dulled 
and  sodden  wrecks  in  their  filthy,  nondescript  ap- 
parel; and  the  guard  at  the  palacio  gave  them  cigar- 
ettes rolled  in  corn  husks  for  running  errands,  and 
found  amusement  in  playing  harmless  tricks  on  them. 

At  the  barracks  they  were  less  welcome,  Don  Jesu 
and  Robideau,  both  subordinates  of  Salezar,  scarcely 
tolerating  them;  while  Salezar,  himself,  kicked  them 
from  in  front  of  the  door  and  threatened  to  cut  off 
their  ears  if  he  caught  them  hanging  around  the  build- 
ing. They  accepted  the  kicks  as  a  matter  of  course 
and  thenceforth  shrunk  from  his  approach;  and  he 
sneered  as  he  thought  of  their  degradation  from  once 
proud  and  vengeful  warriors  of  free  and  warlike  tribes, 
to  fawning  beggars  with  no  backbone.  But  even  he, 
when  the  need  arose,  made  use  of  them  to  fetch  and 
carry  for  him  and  to  do  menial  tasks  about  the  mud 
house  he  called  his  home.  He  had  seen  many  of  their 
kind  and  wasted  no  thought  on  them. 

He  was  the  same  cruel  and  brutal  tyrant  who  had 
herded  almost  two  hundred  half-starved  and  nearly 
exhausted  men  over  that  terrible  trail  down  the  val- 
ley of  the  Rio  Grande,  and  his  soldiers  stood  in  mortal 
terror  of  him  and  meekly  accepted  treatment  that  in 
any  other  race  would  have  swiftly  resulted  in  his 
death.  He  had  played  a  prominent  part  in  the  capture 
and  herding  of  the  Texan  prisoners  and  loved  to  boast 
of  it  at  every  opportunity,  using  some  of  the  incidents 


THE  RENDEZVOUS 309 

as  threats  to  his  unfortunate  soldiers.  Tom  and  his 
friends  witnessed  scenes  that  made  their  blood  boil 
more  than  it  boiled  over  the  indignities  they  elected 
to  suffer,  and  sometimes  it  was  all  they  could  do  to 
refrain  from  killing  him  in  his  tracks.  At  the  barracks 
he  was  a  roaring  lion,  but  at  the  palacio,  in  the  sight 
and  hearing  of  the  chief  jackal,  he  reminded  them  of 
a  whipped  cur. 


CHAPTER  XX 

TOM  RENEGES 

\S  THE  days  passed  while  waiting  for  the  return 
2\  of  the  caravan  to  Missouri,  Patience  rode  abroad 
with  either  her  uncle  or  her  father,  sometimes  in  the 
Dearborn,  but  more  often  in  the  saddle.  She  explored 
the  ruins  of  the  old  church  at  Pecos,  where  the  Texan 
prisoners  had  spent  a  miserable  night;  the  squalid 
hamlets  of  San  Miguel,  which  she  had  passed  through 
on  her  way  to  Santa  Fe,  and  Anton  Chico  had  been 
visited;  the  miserable  little  sheep  ranchos  had  been 
investigated  and  other  rides  had  taken  her  to  other 
outlying  districts;  but  the  one  she  loved  best  was  the 
trail  up  over  the  mountain  behind  Santa  Fe.  The 
almost  hidden  pack  mules  and  their  towering  loads  of 
faggots,  hoja,  hay  and  other  commodities  were  sights 
she  never  tired  of,  although  the  scars  on  some  of  the 
meek  beasts  once  in  awhile  brought  tears  to  her  eyes. 
The  muleteers,  beneficiaries  of  her  generosity,  smiled 
when  they  saw  her  and  touched  their  forelocks  in 
friendly  salutation. 

On  the  mountain  there  was  one  spot  of  which  she 
was  especially  fond.  It  was  a  little  gully-like  depres- 
sion more  than  halfway  up  that  seemed  to  be  much 
greener  than  the  rest  of  the  mountain  side,  and  always 
moist.  The  trees  were  taller  and  more  heavily  leafed 
and  threw  a  shade  which,  with  the  coolness  of  the 

310 


TOM  RENEGES 3^ 

moist  little  nook,  was  most  pleasant.  It  lay  not  far 
from  the  rutted,  rough  and  busy  trail  over  the  moun- 
tain, which  turned  and  passed  below  it,  the  atejos  and 
occasional  picturesque  caballeros  on  their  caparisoned 
horses,  passing  in  review  before  her  and  close  enough 
to  be  distinctly  seen,  yet  far  enough  away  to  hide 
disillusioning  details.  The  mud  houses  of  the  town 
at  the  foot  of  the  long  slope,  with  their  flat  roofs, 
looked  much  better  at  this  distance  and  awakened 
trains  of  thought  which  nearness  would  have  forbid- 
den. It  was  also  an  ideal  place  to  eat  a  lunch  and 
she  and  Uncle  Joe  or  her  father  made  it  their  turning 
point. 

Her  daily  rides  had  given  her  confidence,  and  the 
stares  which  first  had  followed  her  soon  changed  to 
glances  of  idle  curiosity.  Of  Armijo  she  neither  had 
seen  nor  heard  anything  more  and  scarcely  gave  him 
a  thought,  and  the  Mexican  officers  she  met  saluted 
politely  or  ignored  her  altogether.  Her  uncle  still 
harped  about  Santa  Fe  being  no  place  for  her,  but, 
having  the  assurance  that  she  would  return  to  St. 
Louis  with  the  caravan,  was  too  wise  to  press  the 
matter.  His  efforts  were  more  strongly  bent  to  get 
his  brother  to  sell  out  and  he  had  sounded  Woodson 
to  see  if  that  trader  would  take  over  the  merchandise. 
Adam  Cooper  seemed  to  consider  closing  out  his  busi- 
ness and  returning  to  Missouri,  but  he  would  not  sac- 
rifice it,  and  there  the  matter  hung,  swaying  first  to 
one  side  and  then  to  the  other.  By  this  time  Santa 
Fe  had  palled  on  the  American  merchant  and  he  had 
laid  by  sufficient  capital  to  start  in  business  in  St. 
i-ouis  or  one  of  the  frontier  towns,  and  his  brother  was 


312  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

confident  that  if  the  stock  could  be  disposed  of  for  a 
reasonable  sum  that  Adam  would  join  the  returning 
caravan. 

It  was  in  the  storehouse  of  Webb  and  Birdsall  one 
night,  about  a  week  before  the  wagons  were  being  put 
in  shape  for  the  return  trip  that  the  matter  was  set- 
tled. Disturbing  rumors  were  floating  up  from  the 
south  about  a  possible  closing  of  the  ports  of  entry 
of  the  Department  of  New  Mexico,  due  to  the  dangers 
to  Mexican  traders  on  the  long  trail  because  of  the 
presence  of  Texan  raiding  parties.  The  Texans  had 
embittered  the  feelings  of  the  Mexicans  against  the 
Americans,  whom  they  knew  to  be  universally  in  favor 
of  the  Lone  Star  Republic,  and  the  Texan  raids  of  this 
summer  were  taken  as  a  forecast  of  greater  and  more 
determined  raids  for  the  following  year. 

When  Adam  and  Joe  Cooper  joined  the  little  group 
in  the  warehouse  on  this  night,  they  met  two  Mis- 
sourians  who  had  just  returned  from  Chihuahua  with 
a  train  of  eleven  wagons.  These  traders,  finding  busi- 
ness so  good  in  the  far  southern  market,  and  having 
made  arrangements  with  some  Englishmen  there,  who 
were  high  in  favor  with  the  Federal  authorities,  were 
anxious  to  make  another  trip  if  they  could  load  their 
wagons  at  a  price  that  would  make  the  journey  worth 
while.  They  were  certain  that  the  next  year  would 
find  the  Mexican  ports  closed  against  the  overland 
traffic,  eager  to  clean  up  what  they  could  before  winter 
set  in  and  to  sell  their  outfits  and  return  by  water. 
They  further  declared  that  a  tenseness  was  develop- 
ing between  the  Federal  government  and  the  United 
States,  carefully  hidden  at  the  present,  which  would 


TOM  RENEGES  313 

make  war  between  the  two  countries  a  matter  of  a 
short  time.  Texas  was  full  of  people  who  were  urging 
annexation  to  the  United  States,  and  their  numbers 
were  rapidly  growing;  and  when  the  Lone  Star  repub- 
lic became  a  state  in  the  American  federation,  war 
would  inevitably  follow.  Some  in  the  circle  dissented 
wholly  or  in  part,  but  all  admitted  that  daily  Mexico 
was  growing  more  hostile  to  Americans. 

"Wall,  we  ain't  forcin*  our  opinions  on  nobody," 
said  one  of  the  Chihuahua  traders.  "  We  believe  'em 
ourselves,  an'  we  want  ter  make  another  trip  south. 
Adam,  we've  heard  ye  ain't  settled  in  yer  mind  about 
stayin*  through  another  winter  hyar.  We'll  give  ye 
a  chanct  ter  clear  out ;  what  ye  got  in  goods,  an'  what 
ye  want  fer  'em  lock,  stock  an'  bar'l?" 

"What  they  cost  us  here  in  Santa  Fe,"  said  Uncle 
Joe  quickly,  determined  to  force  the  issue.  "  We  just 
brought  in  more'n  two  wagon  loads,  an'  what  we  had 
on  hand  will  go  a  long  way  toward  helpin'  you  fill  your 
wagons.  Come  around  tomorrow,  look  th'  goods  over, 
an'  if  they  suit  you,  we'll  add  twelve  cents  a  pound  for 
th'  freight  charge  across  th'  prairies  an'  close  'em  out 
to  you.  Ain't  that  right,  Adam?"  he  demanded  so 
sharply  and  truculently  that  his  brother  almost  sur- 
rendered at  once.  Seeing  that  they  had  an  ally  in 
Uncle  Joe  the  traders  pushed  the  matter  and  after  a 
long,  haggling  discussion,  they  offered  an  additional 
five  per  cent  of  the  purchase  price  for  a  quick  de- 
cision. 

Uncle  Joe  accepted  it  on  the  spot  and  nudged  his 
brother,  who  grudgingly  accepted  the  terms  if  the 
traders  would  buy  the  two  great  wagons  and  their 


314  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

teams.  This  they  promised  to  do  if  they  could  find 
enough  extra  goods  to  fill  them,  and  they  soon  left 
the  warehouse  for  fear  of  showing  their  elation.  They 
knew  where  they  could  sell  the  wagons  at  a  profit 
with  a  little  manipulation  on  the  part  of  their  Eng- 
lish friend. 

Elated  by  the  outcome  of  his  protracted  arguments, 
Uncle  Joe  hurried  around  to  Armstrong's  store  and 
told  the  news  to  Tom  and  his  three  friends. 

"We  can  get  them  goods  off  our  hands  in  two 
days,"  he  exulted;  "an'  th'  caravan  will  be  ready  to 
leave  inside  a  week.  Don't  say  a  word  to  nobody, 
boys.  We'll  try  to  sneak  Adam  and  Patience  out  of 
town  so  Armijo  won't  miss  'em  till  they're  on  th' 
trail.  Them  Chihuahua  traders  won't  disturb  th'  goods 
before  we  start  for  home  because  they  got  to  get  a 
lot  more  to  fill  their  wagons,  an'  th'  merchandise  is 
safer  in  th'  store  than  it  will  be  under  canvas.  I  wish 
th'  next  week  was  past!" 

To  wish  the  transaction- kept  a  secret  and  to  keep 
it  a  secret  were  two  different  things.  The  Chihuahua 
traders  found  more  merchants  who  felt  that  they 
w^ould  be  much  safer  in  Missouri  than  in  Santa  Fe, 
and  the  south-bound  wagon  train  was  stocked  three 
days  before  time  for  the  Missouri  caravan  to  leave. 
There  were  certain  customs  regulations  relating  to 
goods  going  through  to  El  Paso  and  beyond,  certain 
involved  and  exacting  forms  to  be  obtained  and  filled 
out,  much  red  tape  to  be  cut  with  golden  shears  and 
many  palms  to  be  crossed  with  specie.  Uncle  Joe 
and  his  brother  found  that  the  matter  of  transferring 
their  goods  to  the  traders  took  longer  than  they  ex- 


TOM  RENEGES  315 

pected  and  were  busy  in  the  store  for  several  days, 
leaving  Patience  to  make  the  most  of  the  short  time 
remaining  of  her  stay  in  the  capital  of  the  Depart- 
ment of  New  Mexico. 

At  last  came  the  day  when  the  east-bound  caravan 
was  all  but  ready  to  start,  certain  last  minute  needs 
arising  that  kept  it  in  the  camp  outside  the  city  until 
the  following  morning.  Busily  engaged  in  its  organ- 
izing and  in  numerous  personal  matters,  they  told 
her  to  stay  in  the  city.  Uncle  Joe  and  his  brother 
could  not  accompany  Patience  on  another  ride  up  the 
mountain  and  they  understood  that  she  would  not 
attempt  one;  but  she  changed  her  mind  and  left  the 
town  in  the  care  and  guidance  of  a  Mexican  employee 
of  her  father,  in  whom  full  trust  was  reposed.  She 
rode  out  an  hour  earlier  than  was  her  wont,  and  when 
a  Delaware  Indian  called  at  the  house  to  beg  alms 
from  the  generous  senorita  he  found  the  building  open 
and  empty.  Knowing  that  the  last  night  was  to  be 
spent  in  the  encampment  and  thinking  that  she  had 
gone  there,  as  he  understood  was  the  plan,  he  gave 
little  thought  to  this  and  wandered  back  to  the  Plaza 
Puhlica  to  look  for  his  companions.  They  were  not 
in  sight  and  he  went  over  to  the  barracks  to  seek 
them  there. 

Don  Jesu  swaggered  along  the  side  of  the  build- 
ing, caught  sight  of  the  disreputable  Delaware  and 
contemptuously  waved  him  away.  "  Out  of  my  sight, 
you  drunken  beggar  and  son  of  a  beggar !  If  I  catch 
you  here  once  more  I'll  hang  you  by  your  thumbs! 
Vamoose!'* 

The   Delaware   stiffened  a   little   and   seemed  re- 


3i6  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'* 

luctant  to  obey  the  command.  "  I  seek  my  friends," 
he  replied  in  a  guttural  polyglot.    "  I  do  no  harm." 

Don  Jesu's  face  flamed  and  he  drew  his  sword 
and  brought  the  flat  of  the  blade  smartly  across  the 
Indian's  shoulder.  "But  once  more  I  tell  you  to 
vamoose!  Pronto!"  He  drew  back  swiftly  and  threw 
the  weapon  into  position  for  a  thrust,  for  he  had  seen 
a  look  flare  up  in  the  Indian's  eyes  that  warned  him. 

The  Delaware  cringed,  muttered  something  and 
slunk  back  along  the  wall  and  as  he  reached  the  cor- 
ner of  the  building  he  bumped  solidly  into  Robideau, 
who  at  that  moment  turned  it.  The  foot  of  the  sec- 
ond officer  could  not  travel  far  enough  to  deliver  the 
full  weight  of  the  kick,  but  the  impact  was  enough 
to  send  the  Indian  sprawling.  As  he  clawed  to  hands 
and  knees,  Robideau  stood  over  him,  sword  in  hand, 
threats  and  curses  pouring  from  him  in  a  burning 
stream.  The  Indian  paused  a  moment,  got  control 
over  his  rage,  ran  off  a  short  distance  on  hands  and 
knees  and,  leaping  to  his  feet,  dashed  around  the 
corner  of  the  building  to  the  hilarious  and  exultant 
jeers  of  the  sycophantic  soldiers.  He  barely  escaped 
bumping  into  ^  huge,  screeching  and  ungainly  carreta 
being  driven  by  a  soldier  and  escorted  by  a  squad  of 
his  fellows  under  the  personal  command  of  Salezar. 
The  lash  of  a  whip  fell  across  his  shoulders  and  cut 
through  blanket  and  shirt.  The  second  blow  was 
short  and  before  another  could  be  aimed  at  him,  the 
Delaware  had  darted  into  a  passage-way  between  two 
buildings. 

The  officer  laughed  loudly,  nodded  at  the  scowling 
driver  and  again  felt  of  the  canvas  cover  of  the  cart: 


TOM  RENEGES 317 

"The  city  is  full  of  vermin,"  he  chuckled.  "There's 
not  much  difference  between  Texans  and  Americans, 
and  these  sotted  Indians.  Tomorrow  we  will  be  well 
rid  of  many  of  the  gringo  dogs  and  we  will  attend 
to  these  strange  Indians  when  this  present  business 
has  been  taken  care  of.  But  there  is  one  gringo  who 
will  remain  with  us!"  He  laughed  until  he  shook. 
"Captain  Salezar  today;  Colonel,  tomorrow;  quien 
sahef' 

He  looked  at  two  of  his  soldiers,  squat,  powerful 
half-breeds,  and  laughed  again.  "Jose  is  a  strong 
man.  Manuel  is  a  strong  man.  Perhaps  tomorrow 
we  will  give  each  one  of  them  two  Indians  and  see 
which  can  flog  the  longest  and  the  hardest;  but,"  he 
warned,  his  face  growing  hard  and  cruel,  "the  man 
who  bungles  his  work  today  will  have  no  ears 
tomorrow ! " 

The  Delaware,  his  right  hand  thrust  into  his  shirt 
under  the  dirty  blanket,  crouched  in  the  doorway  and 
was  making  the  fight  of  his  life  against  the  murderous 
rage  surging  through  him.  The  words  of  the  officer 
reached  him  well  enough,  but  in  his  fury  were  unin- 
telligible. Wild,  mad  plans  for  revenge  were  crowd- 
ing through  his  mind,  mixed  and  jumbled  until  they 
were  nothing  more  than  a  mental  kaleidoscope,  and 
constantly  thrown  back  by  the  frantic  struggles  of 
reason.  He  had  nursed  the  thought  of  revenge,  mile 
after  mile,  day  after  day,  across  the  prairies  and  the 
desert;  but  for  the  last  half  month  he  had  fought  it 
back  for  the  safety  his  freedom  might  give  to  the 
woman  he  loved. 

The  grotesque,  ungainly  cart  rumbled  and  bumped. 


3i8  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

clacked  and  screeched  down  the  street,  farther  and 
farther  away  and  still  he  crouched  in  the  doorway. 
The  sounds  died  out,  but  still  he  remained  in  the 
sheltering  niche.  Finally  his  hand  emerged  from 
under  the  blanket  and  fell  to  his  side,  and  a  wretched 
Indian  slouched  down  the  street  toward  the  Plaza 
Puhlica.  In  command  of  himself  once  more  he  shuf- 
fled over  to  the  guard  house  in  the  palacio  and  leaned 
against  the  wall,  the  welt  on  his  back  burning  him 
to  the  soul,  as  Armijo's  herald  stepped  from  the  main 
door,  blew  his  trumpet  and  announced  the  coming  of 
the  governor.  Pedestrians  stopped  short  and  bowed 
as  the  swarthy  tyrant  stalked  out  to  his  horse, 
mounted  and  rode  away,  his  small  body-guard  clat- 
tering after  him.  The  Delaware,  to  hide  the  expres- 
sion on  his  face,  bowed  lower  and  longer  than  anyone 
and  then  slyly  produced  a  plug  of  smuggled  Kentucky 
tobacco  and  slipped  it  to  the  sergeant  of  the  guard. 

"They'll  catch  you  yet,  you  thief  of  the  North," 
warned  the  sergeant,  shaking  a  finger  at  the  stolid 
Indian.  "And  when  they  do  you'll  hang  by  the 
thumbs,  or  lose  your  ears."  He  grinned  and  shoved 
the  plug  into  his  pocket,  not  seeming  to  be  frightened 
by  becoming  an  accessory  after  the  fact.  "  Our  gov- 
ernor is  in  high  spirits  today,  and  our  captain's  face 
is  like  the  mid-day  sun.  He  is  a  devil  with  the  women, 
is  Armijo  and  his  sefiora  doesn't  care  a  snap.  Lucky 
man,  the  governor."  He  laughed  and  then  looked 
curiously  at  his  silent  companion.  "Where  do  you 
come  from,  and  where  do  you  go?" 

The  Delaware  waved  lazily  toward  the  North. 
"  Sefior  Bent.     I  return  soon." 


TOM  RENEGES 319 

"  Look  to  it  that  you  do,  or  the  calabozo  will  swallow 
you  up  in  one  mouthful.  I  hear  much  about  the 
palacio."  He  shook  his  finger  and  his  head,  both 
earnestly. 

The  Delaware  drew  back  slightly  and  glanced 
around.  Drawing  his  blanket  about  him  he  turned 
and  slouched  away,  leaving  the  plaza  by  the  first 
street,  and  made  his  slinking  and  apologetic  way  to 
Armstrong's,  there  to  wait  until  dark.  His  three 
friends  were  there  already  and  were  rubbing  their 
pistols  and  rifles,  elated  that  the  morrow  would  find 
them  on  the  trail  again.  The  two  Arapahoes  planned 
to  accompany  the  caravan  as  far  as  the  Crossing  of 
the  Arkansas  and  there  turn  back  toward  Bent's  Fort, 
following  the  northern  branch  of  the  trail  along  the 
north  bank  of  the  river. 

"  Better  jine  us,  Tom,"  urged  Jim  Ogden.  "  You 
an'  Hank  an'  us  will  stay  at  th'  fort  till  frost  comes, 
an'  then  outfit  thar  an'  spend  th'  winter  up  in  Middle 
Park." 

"  Or  we  kin  work  up  'long  Green  River  an'  winter 
in  Hank's  old  place,"  suggested  Zeb  Houghton,  rub- 
bing his  hands.  "  Thar'll  be  good  company  in  Brown's 
Hole ;  an'  mebby  a  scrimmage  with  th'  thievin'  Crows 
if  we  go  up  that  way.  Yer  nose  will  be  outer  jint  iii 
th'  Missouri  settlements.  I  know  a  couple  o'  beaver 
streams  that  ain't  been  teched  yit."  He  glanced 
shrewdly  at  the  young  man.  "It's  good  otter  an' 
mink  country,  too.  We'll  build  a  good  home  camp 
an'  put  up  some  lean-tos  at  th'  fur  end  o'  th'  furtherest 
trap  lines.  Th'  slopes  o'  th'  little  divides  air  thick 
with  timber  fer  our  marten  traps,  an'  th'  tops  air  bare. 


320  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

Fox  sets  up  thar  will  git  plenty  o'  pelts.  I  passed 
through  it  two  year  ago  an'  can't  hardly  wait  ter  git 
back  ag'in.    It's  big  enough  fer  th'  hull  four  o'  us." 

"Thar's  no  money  in  beaver  at  a  dollar  a  plew," 
commented  Hank,  watching  his  partner  out  of  the 
corner  of  his  eye.  "Time  war  when  it  war  worth 
something  I  tell  ye;  but  them  days  air  past  —  an'  th' 
beaver,  too,  purty  nigh.  I  remember  one  spring 
when  I  got  five  dollars  a  pound  fer  beaver  from  ol' 
Whiskey  Larkin.  Met  him  on  th'  headwaters  o'  th' 
Platte.  He  paid  me  that  then  an'  thar,  an'  then  had 
ter  pack  it  all  th'  way  ter  Independence.  But  it's 
different  with  th'  other  skins,  an'  us  four  shore  could 
have  a  fine  winter  together." 

"It's  alius  excitin'  ter  me  ter  wait  till  th'  pelts 
prime,  settin'  in  a  good  camp  with  th'  traps  strung 
out,  smokin'  good  terbaker  an'  eatin'  good  grub," 
said  Ogden,  reminiscently.  "Then  th'  frosts  set  in, 
snow  falls  an'  th'  cold  comes  ter  stay;  an'  we  web  it 
along  th'  lines  settin'  traps  fer  th'  winter's  work.  By 
gosh !     What  ye  say,  Tom  ?  " 

Tom  was  studying  the  floor,  vainly  trying  to  find  a 
way  to  please  his  friends  and  to  follow  the  commands 
of  an  urging  he  could  not  resist.  For  him  the  mating 
call  had  come,  and  his  whole  nature  responded  to  it 
with  a  power  which  would  not  be  denied.  On  one 
hand  called  the  old  life,  the  old  friends  to  whom  he 
owed  so  much;  a  winter  season  with  them  in  a  good 
fur  country,  with  perfect  companionship  and  the  work 
he  loved  so  dearly;  on  the  other  the  low,  sweet  voice 
of  love,  calling  him  to  the  One  Woman  and  to  trails 
untrod.     The  past  was  dead,  living  only  in  memory; 


TOM  RENEGES  321 

the  future  stirred  with  life  and  was  rich  in  promise. 
He  sighed,  slowly  shook  his  head  and  looked  up  with 
moist  eyes,  glancing  from  one  eager  face  to  another. 

"  I'm  goin'  back  ter  Missoury,"  he  said  in  a  low 
voice.  "Thar's  a  question  I  got  ter  ask,  back  thar, 
when  th*  danger's  all  behind  an*  it  kin  be  asked  fair. 
If  th'  answer  is  *  no '  I  promise  ter  jine  ye  at  Bent's 
or  foller  after.  Leave  word  fer  me  if  ye  go  afore  I 
git  thar.  But  trappin'  is  on  its  last  legs,  an'  th' 
money's  slippin'  out  o'  it,  like  fur  from  a  pelt  in  th' 
spring;  'though  I  won't  care  a  dang  about  that  if  I 
has  ter  turn  my  back  on  th'  settlements."  His  eyes 
narrowed  and  his  face  grew  hard.  "Jest  now  I'm 
worryin'  about  somethin'  else.  Here  I  am  in  Santer 
Fe,  passin'  Armijo  an'  Salezar  every  day,  an'  have 
ter  turn  my  back  on  one  of  th'  big  reasons  fer  comin' 
hyar.  Thar's  a  new  welt  acrost  my  back  that  burns 
through  th'  flesh  inter  my  soul  like  a  livin'  fire. 
Thar's  an  oath  I  swore  on  th'  memory  of  a  close 
friend  who  war  beaten  an'  starved  an'  murdered;  an' 
now  I'm  a  lyin'  dog,  an'  my  spirit's  turned  ter  water!  " 
He  leaped  up  and  paced  back  and  forth  across  the 
little  room  like  a  caged  panther. 

Hank  cleared  his  throat,  his  painted  face  terrible 
to  look  upon.  "  Hell !  "  he  growled,  squirming  on 
his  box.  "Them  as  know  ye,  Tom  Boyd,  know  ye 
ain't  neither  dog  ner  liar!  Takes  a  good  man  ter 
stand  what  ye  have,  day  arter  day,  feelin'  Hke  you 
do,  an'  keep  from  chokin*  th*  life  outer  him.  We've 
all  took  his  insults,  swallered  'em  whole  without  no 
salt ;  ye  wouldn't  say  all  o'  us  war  dogs  an'  liars,  would 
ye?    Tell  ye  what;  we've  been  purty  clost,  you  an' 


322 ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

me  —  suppose  I  slip  back  from  th*  Canadian  an'  git 
his  ears  fer  ye?  *Twon't  be  no  trouble,  an'  I  won't 
be  gone  long.     Reckon  ye'd  feel  airy  better  then?" 

Zeb  moved  forward  on  his  cask.  "  That's  you, 
Hank  Marshall !  "  he  exclaimed  eagerly.  "  I'm  with 
ye!  He  spit  in  my  face  two  days  ago,  an'  I  want 
his  ha'r.     Good  fer  you,  ol'  beaver !  " 

For  the  next  hour  the  argument  waxed  hot,  one 
against  three,  and  Armstrong  had  to  come  in  and 
caution  them  twice.  It  was  Jim  Ogden  who  finally 
changed  sides  and  settled  the  matter  in  Tom's  favor. 

"  Hyar !  We're  nigh  fightin'  over  a  dog  that  ain't 
worth  a  cuss !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Mebby  Tom  will  be 
comin'  back  ter  Bent's  afore  winter  sets  in.  Then  we 
kin  go  ter  Green  River  by  th'  way  o'  this  town,  stop- 
pin'  hyar  a  day  ter  git  Salezar's  ears.  Won't  do  Tom 
no  good  if  us  boys  git  th'  skunk.  If  ye  don't  close  yer 
traps,  cussed  if  I  won't  go  out  an'  git  him  now,  an* 
then  hell  shore  will  pop  afore  th'  caravan  gits  away. 
Ain't  ye  got  no  sense,  ye  blood-thirsty  Injuns?  " 


CHAPTER  XXI 


THE  KIDNAPPING 


PATIENCE  and  her  Mexican  escort  rode  out  of 
the  town  along  the  trail  to  Taos  Valley,  the 
road  leading  up  the  mountain  and  past  her  favorite 
retreat.  She  could  not  resist  the  cool  of  the  morning 
hours  and  the  temptation  to  pay  one  more  visit  to 
the  little  niche  in  the  mountain  side.  The  few  fare- 
well calls  that  she  had  to  make  could  wait  until  the 
afternoon.  They  were  duties  rather  than  pleasures 
and  the  shorter  she  could  make  them  the  better  she 
would  like  it.  She  passed  the  mud  houses  of  the 
soldiers  and  soon  left  the  city  behind.  At  inter- 
vals on  the  wTetched  road  she  met  and  smiled  at 
the  friendly  muleteers  and  gave  small  coins  to  the 
toddling  Mexican  and  Indian  children  before  the 
wretched  hovels  scattered  along  the  way.  Well  be- 
fore noon  she  reached  the  little  nook  and  unpacked 
the  lunch  she  had  brought  along.  Sharing  it  with 
her  humble  escort,  who  stubbornly  insisted  on  taking 
his  portion  to  one  side  and  eating  by  himself,  she 
spread  her  own  lunch  under  her  favorite  tree  and 
leisurely  enjoyed  it  as  she  watched  the  mules  passing 
below  her  along  the  trail.  This  last  view  of  the  dis- 
tant town  and  the  mountain  trail  enchanted  her  and 
time  slipped  by  with  furtive  speed.  Far  down  on 
the  road,  if  it  could  be  called  such,  bumped  and  slid 

323 


324  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

a  huge  carreta  covered  with  a  soiled  canvas  cover,  its 
driver  laboring  with  his  four-mule  team.  The  four 
had  all  they  could  do  to  draw  the  massive  cart  along 
the  rough  trail  and  she  smiled  as  she  wondered  how 
many  mules  it  would  take  to  pull  the  heavy  vehicle 
if  it  were  well  loaded.  She  tried  to  picture  it  with 
the  toiling  caravan,  and  laughed  aloud  at  the 
absurdity. 

While  she  idly  watched  the  carreta  and  the  little 
atejo  passing  it  in  the  direction  of  the  city,  a  flash 
far  down  the  trail  caught  her  eye  and  she  made  out 
a  group  of  mounted  soldiers  trotting  after  an  officer, 
whose  scabbard  dully  flashed  as  it  jerked  and  bobbed 
about.  The  carreta  was  more  than  half  way  up  the 
slope,  seeming  every  moment  to  be  threatened  with 
destruction  by  the  shaking  it  was  receiving,  when  the 
soldiers  overtook  and  passed  it.  When  the  squad 
reached  the  short  section  of  the  trail  immediately  be- 
low her  it  met  an  atejo  of  a  dozen  heavily-laden  mules 
and  the  arrogant  officer  waved  his  sword  and  ordered 
them  off  the  trail.  Mules  are  deliberate  and  take 
their  own  good  time,  and  they  also  have  a  natural 
reluctance  to  forsake  a  known  and  comparatively  easy 
trail  to  climb  over  rocks  under  the  towering  packs. 
Their  owners  tried  to  lead  them  aside,  although  there 
was  plenty  of  room  for  the  troops  to  pass,  but  the 
little  beasts  were  stubborn  and  stuck  to  the  trail. 

Impatiently  waiting  for  perhaps  a  full  minute  that 

.his  conceit  might  be  pampered,  the  officer  drew  his 

sword    again    and    peremptorily    ordered    the    trail 

cleared  for  his  passing.     The  muleteers  did  their  best, 

but  it  was  not  good  enough  for  the  puffed-up  captain. 


THE  KIDNAPPING  325 

and  he  spurred  his  horse  against  a  faggot-burdened 
animal.  The  load  swayed  and  then  toppled,  forcing 
the  little  burro  to  its  knees  and  then  over  on  its  side, 
the  tight  girth  gripping  it  as  in  a  vise.  The  owner 
of  the  animal  stepped  quickly  forward,  a  black  scowl 
on  his  face.  At  his  first  word  of  protest  the  officer 
struck  him  on  the  head  with  the  flat  of  the  blade  and 
broke  into  a  torrent  of  curses  and  threats.  The  mu- 
leteer staggered  back  against  a  huge  bowlder  and 
bowed  his  head,  his  arms  hanging  limply  at  his  sides. 
The  officer  considered  a  moment,  laughed  contemp- 
tuously and  rode  on,  his  rag-tag,  wooden-faced  squad 
following  him  closely. 

As  the  soldiers  passed  from  his  sight  around  a  bend 
in  the  trail  the  muleteer  leaned  forward,  hand  on  the 
knife  in  his  belt,  and  stared  malevolently  at  the  rocks 
on  the  bend;  and  then  hastened  to  help  his  two  com- 
panions unpack  the  load  of  faggots  and  let  the  mule 
arise.  The  little  animal  did  not  get  up.  Both  its 
front  legs  were  broken  by  the  rocky  crevice  into 
which  they  had  been  forced.  The  unfortunate  Pueblo 
Indian  knelt  swiftly  at  the  side  of  the  little  beast  and 
passed  his  hands  along  the  slender  legs.  He  shook 
his  head  sorrowfully  and  stroked  the  burro's  flank. 
Suddenly  leaping  to  his  feet,  knife  in  hand,  he  took 
two  quick  steps  along  the  trail,  but  yielded  to  his 
clinging  and  frightened  friends  and  dejectedly  walked 
back  to  the  suffering  animal.  For  a  moment  he  stood 
above  it  and  then,  changing  his  grip  on  the  knife, 
leaned  quickly  over. 

Patience  had  seen  the  whole  tragedy  and  her  eyes 
were  brimming  with  tears.     As  the  muleteer  bent 


326  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

forward  she  turned  away,  sobbing.  The  throaty  mut- 
tering of  her  guide  brought  him  back  to  her  mind 
and  she  called  him  to  her. 

**  Sanchez !  "  she  exclaimed,  taking  a  purse  from 
her  bosom.  "Take  this  money  to  him.  It  will  buy 
him  another  burro." 

The  Mexican's  teeth  flashed  like  pearls  and  he 
nodded  eagerly.  In  a  moment  he  was  clambering 
down  the  rocky  mountain  side  and  reached  the  trail 
as  the  noisy  carreta  lumbered  past  the  waiting  atejo. 
He  need  not  have  hastened,  for  each  mule  had  seized 
upon  the  stop  as  a  valuable  moment  for  resting  and 
was  lying  down  under  its  load.  Here  was  work 
for  the  angry  muleteers,  for  every  animal  must  be 
unloaded,  kicked  to  its  feet  and  loaded  anew. 

Sanchez  slid  down  the  last  rocky  wall,  flung  up  his 
arms  and  showed  the  two  gold  pieces,  making  a  flam- 
boyant speech  as  he  alternately  faced  the  wondering 
muleteer  and  turned  to  bow  to  the  slender  figure  out- 
lined against  the  somber  greens  of  the  mountain  nook. 
Handing  over  the  money,  he  slapped  the  Indian's 
shoulder,  whirled  swiftly  and  clambered  back  the  way 
he  had  come. 

The  Indian  seemed  dazed  at  his  unexpected  good 
fortune,  staring  at  the  money  in  his  hand.  He 
glanced  up  toward  the  mountain  niche,  raised  a  hand 
to  his  forelock,  and  then  pushed  swiftly  back  from 
his  eager,  curious,  crowding  friends.  They  talked 
together  at  top  speed  and  for  the  moment  forgot  all 
about  the  mules  they  had  so  laboriously  repacked; 
and  when  they  looked  behind  them  they  found  they 
had  their  work  to  do  over  again.     Again  the  fortunate 


THE  KIDNAPPING  327 

muleteer  looked  up,  his  hand  slowly  rising  to  repeat 
his  thanks;  and  became  a  statue  in  bronze.  He  saw 
the  ragged  troops  seize  his  benefactress  and  leap  for 
the  guide.  Sanchez  was  no  coward  and  he  knew 
what  loyalty  meant  and  demanded.  He  fought  like 
a  wild  beast  until  the  crash  of  a  pistol  in  the  hands 
of  the  officer  sent  him  staggering  on  bending  legs, 
back,  back,  back.  Reaching  the  edge  of  the  niche  he 
toppled  backward,  his  quivering  arms  behind  him  to 
break  his  fall;  and  plunged  and  rolled  down  the  rocky 
slope  until  stopped  by  a  stunted  tree,  where  he  hung 
like  a  bag  of  meal. 

Patience's  strength,  multiplied  by  terror,  availed 
her  nothing  and  soon,  bound,  gagged  and  wrapped 
up  in  blankets,  she  was  carried  to  the  trail  and  placed 
in  the  carreta  which,  its  canvas  cover  again  tightly 
drawn,  quickly  began  its  jolting  way  down  the  trail. 
As  it  and  its  escort  passed  the  atejo,  now  being  re- 
packed, the  officer  scowled  about  him  for  a  sight  of 
the  impudent  muleteer,  but  could  not  see  him. 

Salezar  stopped  his  horse :  "  Where  is  that  Pueblo 
dog?"  he  demanded. 

"  He  is  so  frightened  he  is  running  all  the  way 
home,"  answered  a  muleteer.  "  He  has  left  us  to  do 
his  work  for  him !  Are  we  slaves  that  we  must  serve 
him?  Wait  till  we  see  him,  Sefior  Capitan!  Just 
you  wait !  "  He  looked  at  his  companion,  who  nod- 
ded sourly.     "Always  he  is  like  that,  Sefior  Capitan." 

Salezar  questioned  them  closely  about  what  they 
had  seen,  and  found  that  they  had  been  so  busy  with 
the  accursed  mules  that  they  had  had  no  time  for 
anything  else. 


328  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

"See  that  you  speak  the  truth!"  he  threatened. 
"There  is  a  gringo  woman  missing  from  Santa  Fe 
and  we  are  seeking  her.  Her  gringo  friends  are  en- 
emies of  the  Governor,  and  those  who  help  them  also 
are  his  enemies.  Then  you  have  not  seen  this 
woman?" 

"The  more  gringos  that  are  missing  the  louder 
we  will  sing.  We  have  not  seen  her,  Sefior  Capitan. 
We  will  take  care  that  we  do  not  see  her." 

"  Did  you  hear  any  shooting,  then?  " 

"  If  I  did  it  would  be  that  frightened  Pablo,  shoot- 
ing at  his  shadow.     He  is  like  that,  Pablo  is." 

"  Listen  well !  "  warned  Salezar,  his  beady  eyes 
aglint.  "There  are  two  kinds  of  men  who  do  not 
speak;  the  w^ise  ones,  and  the  ones  who  have  no 
tongues !  "  He  made  a  significant  gesture  in  front  of 
his  mouth,  glared  down  at  the  two  muleteers  and, 
wheeling,  dashed  down  the  trail  to  overtake  the 
carreta,  where  he  gloated  aloud  that  his  prisoner  might 
hear,  and  know  where  she  was  going,  and  why. 

The  two  Pueblos  listened  until  the  hoofbeats  sound- 
ed well  down  the  trail  and  then  scrambled  up  the 
mountain  side  like  goats,  reaching  the  little  nook  as 
Pablo  dragged  the  seriously  wounded  Mexican  over 
the  edge.  They  worked  over  him  quickly,  silently, 
listening  to  his  broken,  infrequent  mutterings  and 
after  bandaging  him  as  best  they  could  they  put  him 
on  a  blanket  and  carried  him  to  the  trail  and  along  it 
until  they  reached  an  Indian  hovel,  where  they  left 
him  in  care  of  a  squaw.  Returning  to  the  atejo  they 
had  to  repack  every  mule,  but  they  worked  feverishly 
and  the  work  was  soon  done  and  the  little  train  plod- 


THE  KIDNAPPING  329 

ded  on  down  the  trail.  At  the  foot  of  the  mountain 
Pablo  said  something  to  his  companions,  left  the  trail 
and  soon  was  lost  to  their  sight. 

Meanwhile  the  carreta,  after  a  journey  which  was 
a  torture,  mentally  and  physically,  to  its  helpless  occu- 
pant, reached  the  town  and  rumbled  up  to  Salezar's 
house,  scraped  through  the  narrow  roadway  between 
the  house  and  the  building  next  door  and  stopped  in 
the  windowless,  high-walled  courtyard.  Three  sol- 
diers quickly  carried  a  blanket-swathed  burden  into 
the  house  while  the  others  loafed  around  the  entrance 
to  the  driveway  to  guard  against  spying  eyes.  In  a 
few  moments  the  captain  came  out,  briskly  rubbing 
his  hands,  gave  a  curt  order  regarding  alertness  and 
rode  away  in  the  direction  of  the  palacio,  already  a 
colonel  in  his  stimulated  imagination.  This  had  been 
a  great  day  in  the  fortunes  of  Captain  Salezar  and 
he  was  eager  for  his  reward. 

The  sentry  at  the  door  of  the  palacio  saluted,  told 
him  that  he  was  waited  for  and  urgently  wanted,  and 
then  stood  at  attention.  Salezar  stroked  his  chin, 
chuckled,  and  swaggered  through  the  portal.  Ten 
minutes  later  he  emerged,  walking  on  air  and  im- 
patient for  the  coming  of  darkness,  when  his  task  soon 
would  be  finished  and  his  promotion  assured. 

And  while  the  captain  paced  the  floor  of  his  quar- 
ters at  the  barracks  and  dreamed  dreams,  an  honest, 
courageous,  and  loyal  Mexican  was  fighting  against 
death  in  a  little  hovel  on  the  mountain  side;  and  a 
Pueblo  Indian,  stimulated  by  a  queer  and  jumbled 
mixture  of  rage,  gratitude,  revenge,  and  pity,  was 
making  his  slow  way,  with  infinite  caution,  through 


330 "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

the  cover  north  of  town.  Sanchez  in  his  babbling  had 
mentioned  the  caravan,  a  gringo  name,  and  the  urgent 
need  for  a  warning  to  be  carried.  Salezar's  name  the 
Pueblo  already  knew  far  too  well,  and  hated  as  he 
hated  nothing  else  on  earth.  The  mud-walled  pueblos 
of  the  Valley  of  Taos  were  regarded  by  Salezar  as 
rabbit-warrens  full  of  women,  provided  by  Providence 
that  his  hunting  might  be  good. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

"LOS  TEJANOS!" 

THE  encampment  of  the  returning  caravan  was 
in  a  little  pasture  well  outside  the  town  and 
it  was  the  scene  of  bustling  activity.  Its  personnel 
was  different  from  either  of  the  two  trains  from 
the  Missouri  frontier,  for  it  was  made  up  of  traders 
and  travelers  from  both  of  the  earlier,  west-bound 
caravans.  Some  of  the  first  and  second  wagon  trains 
had  gone  on  to  El  Paso  and  Chihuahua,  a  handful  of 
venturesome  travelers  were  to  try  for  the  Pacific  coast, 
and  others  of  the  first  two  trains  had  elected  to  remain 
in  the  New  Mexican  capital.  While  in  the  two  west- 
bound caravans  there  had  been  many  Mexicans,  their 
number  now  was  negligible.  But  this  returning  train 
was  larger  than  either  of  the  other  two,  carried  much 
less  freight,  a  large  amount  of  specie,  and  would  drive 
a  large  herd  of  mules  across  the  prairies  for  sale  in 
the  Missouri  settlements,  which  would  fan  the  fires 
of  Indian  avarice  all  along  the  trail. 

Uncle  Joe  and  his  brother  had  been  busy  all  day 
doing  their  own  work,  catching  up  odds  and  ends  of 
their  Santa  Fe  connections,  and  helping  friends  get 
ready  for  the  long  trip,  and  they  had  not  given  much 
thought  to  Patience,  whom  they  believed  to  be  saying 
her  farewells  to  friends  she  had  made  in  the  city.  As 
the  afternoon  passed  and  she  and  her  escort  had  not 

331 


332  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

appeared,  Uncle  Joe  became  a  little  uneasy;  and  as 
the  shadows  began  to  reach  farther  and  farther  from 
the  wagons  he  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  back  to 
Santa  Fe  to  find  and  join  her.  It  was  nearly  dark 
when  he  galloped  back  to  the  encampment  and  sought 
his  brother,  hoping  that  Patience  had  made  her  way 
to  the  wagons  while  he  had  sought  for  her  in  town. 
He  knew  that  she  had  not  called  on  any  of  her  friends 
and  that  she  must  have  stolen  a  last  ride  through  the 
environs  of  the  town.  The  two  men  were  frankly 
frightened  and  hurriedly  made  the  rounds  of  the  wag- 
ons and  then  started  for  the  city.  It  was  dark  by 
then  and  as  they  rode  by  the  last  camp-fire  of  the 
encampment,  four  villainous  Indians  loomed  up  in  the 
light  of  the  little  blaze  and  Uncle  Joe  recognized  them 
instantly.     He  drew  up  quickly. 

"  Have  you  seen  Patience  ?  "  he  cried,  an  agony 
of  fear  in  his  voice.     "  We  can*t  find  her  anywhere !  " 

The  Indians  motioned  for  him  to  go  on  and  they 
followed  him  and  his  brother.  When  a  few  score 
paces  from  the  fire  they  stopped  and  consulted,  hung- 
rily fingering  the  locks  of  their  heavy  rifles.  While 
they  were  sketching  a  plan  a  Pueblo  Indian,  following 
the  trail  to  the  camp  like  a  speeding  shadow,  came 
up  to  them  and  blurted  out  his  fragmentary  tale  in  a 
mixture  of  Spanish  and  Indian. 

"  Salezar  stole  white  woman  on  mountain.  Put  her 
in  carreta  and  went  back  to  Santa  Fe.  Tell  these 
people,  that  her  friends  will  know.  Salezar,  the  son 
of  a  pig,  stole  her  on  the  mountain."  He  burst  into 
a  torrent  of  words  unintelligible  and  open  and  shut 
his  hands  as  he  raved. 


"LOS   TEJANOS!"  333 

Finally  in  reply  to  their  hot,  close  questioning  he 
told  all  he  knew,  his  answers  interspersed  with  stark 
curses  for  Salezar  and  pity  and  anxiety  for  the  angel 
sefiorita.  His  words  bore  the  undeniable  stamp  of 
sincerity,  fitted  in  with  what  the  anxious  group  feared, 
and  he  was  triply  bound  by  the  gold  pieces  crowded 
into  his  hands.  After  another  conference,  not  point- 
less now,  a  plan  was  hurriedly  agreed  upon  and  the 
several  parts  well  studied.  The  Pueblo  was  given  a 
commission  and  loaned  a  horse,  and  after  repeating 
what  he  was  to  do,  shot  away  into  the  darkness. 
Uncle  Joe  and  his  brother  grudgingly  accepted  their 
parts,  after  Tom  had  shown  them  they  could  help  in 
no  other  way,  and  turned  back  into  the  encampment, 
where  their  hot  and  eager  efforts  met  with  prompt 
help  from  their  closest  friends.  Alonzo  Webb  and 
Enoch  Birdsall,  mounted,  led  four  horses  out  of  the 
west  side  of  the  camp  and  melted  into  the  darkness; 
several  hundred  yards  from  the  wagons  they  turned 
the  led  horses  over  to  four  maddened  Indians  and 
followed  them  through  the  night,  to  enter  Santa  Fe 
from  the  south.  Not  far  behind  them  a  cavalcade 
rode  along  the  same  route,  grim  and  silent.  At  the 
little  corral  where  the  atejo  had  put  up  the  Indians 
got  the  horses  which  Turley  had  loaned  them,  shook 
hands  with  the  two  traders  and  listened  as  the  cara- 
van's horses  were  led  off  toward  the  camp. 

Armstrong  answered  the  knocks  on  his  door  and 
admitted  the  Delaware,  listened  in  amazement  to  the 
brief,  tense  statement  of  fact,  strongly  endorsed  Tom's 
plans,  and  eagerly  accepted  his  own  part.  His  caller 
slipped  out,  the  door  closed,  and  the  sounds  of  walking 


334  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

horses  faded  out  down  the  street.  A  few  moments 
later,  Armstrong,  rifle  in  hand,  slipped  out  of  the  house 
and  ran  southward. 

Captain  Salezar,  sitting  at  ease  in  his  adobe  house, 
poured  himself  another  drink  of  aguardiente  and  rolled 
another  corn-husk  cigarette.  Lighting  it  from  the 
candle  he  fell  to  pacing  to  and  fro  across  the  small 
room.  As  the  raw,  potent  Hquor  stimulated  his  im- 
agination he  began  to  bow  to  imaginary  persons,  give 
orders  to  officers,  and  to  introduce  himself  as  Colonel 
Salezar.  From  the  barracks  across  the  corner  of  the 
square  an  occasional  burst  of  laughter  rang  out,  but 
these  were  becoming  more  infrequent  and  less  loud. 
He  heard  the  grounding  gun-butt  of  the  sentry  outside 
his  door  as  the  soldier  paused  before  wheeling  to  re- 
trace his  steps  over  the  beat. 

The  sentry  paced  along  the  narrow  driveway  and 
stopped  at  the  outer  corner  of  the  house  to  cast  an 
envious  glance  across  at  the  barracks  where  he  knew 
that  his  friends  were  engaged  in  a  furtive  game  of 
fnonte,  which  had  started  before  he  had  gone  on  duty 
not  a  quarter  of  an  hour  before.  He  turned  slowly 
to  pace  back  again  and  then  suddenly  threw  up  his 
arms  as  his  world  became  black.  His  falling  firelock 
was  caught  as  it  left  his  hands,  and  soon  lay  at  the  side 
of  its  gagged  and  trussed  owner  in  the  blackness 
along  the  base  of  a  driveway  wall.  Two  figures 
slipped  toward  the  courtyard  to  the  rear  of  the  house 
and  one  of  them,  taking  the  rifle  of  his  companion, 
stopped  at  the  corner  of  the  wall  at  the  driveway. 
The  other  slipped  to  the  door,  gently  tried  the  latch 
and  opened  it,  one  hand  hidden  beneath  the  folds  of  a 


"LOS   TEJANOS!"       335 

dirty  blanket.  The  door  swung  silently  open  and  shut 
and  the  intruder  cast  a  swift  glance  around  the  room. 

Captain  Salezar  grinned  into  the  cracked  mirror 
hanging  on  the  wall,  stiffened  to  attention,  and  saluted 
the  image  in  the  glass. 

"Colonel  Salezar's  orders,  sir,"  he  declaimed  and 
then,  staring  with  unbelieving  eyes  at  the  apparition 
pushing  out  onto  the  mirror,  crossed  himself,  whirled 
and  drew  his  sword  almost  in  one  motion. 

The  Delaware  cringed  and  pulled  at  a  lock  of  hair 
straggling  down  past  his  eyes  and  held  out  a  folded 
paper,  swiftly  placing  a  finger  on  his  lips. 

"For  le  Capitan  despues  le  Gobernador"  he  whispered. 
''Pronto!'' 

The  captain's  anger  and  suspicion  at  so  uncere- 
monious an  entry  slowly  faded,  but  he  did  not  lower 
the  sword.  The  Delaware  slid  forward,  abject  and 
fearful,  his  eyes  riveted  on  the  clumsy  blade,  the 
paper  held  out  at  arm's  length.  **  For  le  Capitan,'^  he 
muttered.     '*  Frontof' 

"  You  son  of  swine ! "  growled  Salezar.  "  You 
scum!  Is  this  the  way  you  enter  an  officer's  house? 
How  did  you  pass  the  sentry?  A  score  of  lashes  on 
both  your  backs  will  teach  you  manners  and  him  his 
duty.  Give  me  that  message  and  stand  aside  till  I 
call  the  guard !  " 

*' Ferddn,  Capitan!  Ferddn,  perddn!"  begged  the 
Delaware.  *' Le  Gobernador  —  "  his  hands  streaked 
out,  one  gripping  the  sword  wrist  of  the  captain,  the 
other  fastening  inexorably  on  the  greasy,  swarthy 
throat  well  up  under  the  chin.  As  the  grips  clamped 
down  the  Delaware's  knee  rose  and  smashed  into  the 


336  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

Mexican's  stomach.  The  sword  clattered  against  a 
wall  and  the  two  men  fell  and  rolled  and  thrashed 
across  the  floor. 

"Where  is  she?"  grated  the  Indian  as  he  writhed 
and  rolled,  now  underneath  and  now  uppermost. 
'*  Where  is  she,  you  murdering  dog?  " 

They  smashed  against  the  flimsy  table  and  over- 
turned it,  candle,  liquor  and  all.  The  candle  flickered 
out  and  the  struggle  went  on  in  the  darkness. 

"Where  is  she,  Salezar?  Yore  in  th'  hands  of  a 
Texan,  you  taker  of  ears!     W^here  is  she?" 

Salezar  was  no  weakling  and  although  he  had  no 
more  real  courage  than  a  rat,  like  a  rat  he  was  cor- 
nered and  fighting  for  his  life;  but  Captain  Salezar 
had  lived  well  and  lazily,  as  his  pampered  body  was 
now  showing  evidence.  Try  as  he  might  he  could 
not  escape  those  steel-like  fingers  for  more  than  a 
moment.  AVith  desperate  strength  he  broke  their 
hold  time  and  again  as  he  writhed  and  bridged  and 
rolled,  clawed  and  bit;  but  they  clamped  back  again 
as  often.  His  shouts  for  help  were  choked  gasps 
and  the  strength  he  had  put  forth  in  the  beginning  of 
the  struggle  was  waning. 

The  table  was  now  a  wTeck  and  they  rolled  in  and 
over  the  debris.  Salezar  made  use  of  his  great  spurs 
at  every  chance  and  his  opponent's  clothing  was 
ripped  and  torn  to  shreds  wet  with  blood.  His  fingers 
searched  for  his  enemy's  eyes  and  missed  them,  but 
left  their  marks  on  the  painted  face.  They  rolled 
against  one  wall  and  then  back  to  the  other;  they 
slammed  again  at  the  door  and  back  into  the  wreckage 
of  the  table. 


LOS   TEJANOS!''  337 


"  Where  is  she?  "  panted  the  Delaware.  "  Tell  me, 
Salezar,  where  is  she?  " 

The  captain  wriggled  desperately  and  almost  gained 
the  top,  and  thought  he  sensed  a  weakened  opposi- 
tion. "  Where  she  will  remain !  "  he  choked.  "  Mis- 
tress of  the  palacio  —  until  he  tires  —  of  her.  You  — 
cursed  Tejano  dog!  "  He  drove  a  spur  at  his  enemy's 
side,  missed,  and  it  became  entangled  in  the  rags. 

The  Delaware,  blind  with  fury,  smashed  his  knee 
into  the  soft  abdomen  and  snarled  at  the  answering 
gasp  of  pain.  "Remember  th*  prisoners?  Near 
Valencia — Ernest  died  in  the  —  night.  You  cut  off 
his  ears  —  and  threw  his  body  in  a  —  ditch!"  He 
got  the  throat  hold  again  in  spite  of  nails  and  teeth, 
blows  and  spurs.  "  McAllister  was  shot  because  he  — 
could  not  walk.  You  stole  his  clothes  —  cut  off  his 
ears  and  left  —  his  body  at  th'  side  of  th' — road  for 
the  wolves !  "  He  felt  the  spurs  graze  his  leg  and  he 
threw  it  across  the  body  of  the  Mexican.  "Golpin 
was  shot  —  other  side  of  Dead  Man's  Lake.  You 
took  —  his  ears  too!"  He  hauled  and  tugged  and 
managed  to  roll  his  enemy  onto  his  other  leg.  "  On 
th'  Dead  Man's  Journey  —  Griffin's  brains  were 
knocked  out  with  a  —  gun  butt.  His  ears  were  cut 
off,  too!"  Hooking  his  feet  together  he  clamped  his 
powerful  thighs  in  a  viselike  grip  on  his  enemy. 
"  Gates  died  in  a  wagon  near  —  El  Paso,  of  starvation, 
sickness  —  an'  fright.     You  got  his — ears!" 

"As  —  I'll  get — yours!''  hoarsely  moaned  Salezar, 
again  missing  with  the  spurs.  "  The  senorita  will  be 
happy  —  in  Armijo's  arms.  After  that  —  the  soldiers 
—  can  have  her  1 " 


338  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

The  Delaware  loosened  his  leg  grip,  jerked  them 
up  toward  the  captain's  stomach  as  he  hauled  his 
victim  down  toward  them,  and  clamped  them  tight 
again  over  the  soft  stomach. 

"Yore  lies  stick  —  in  yore  throat  —  Salezar!"  he 
panted.  "An'  those  murders  cry  —  to  heaven;  but 
y^ou'll  only —  hear  th'  echoes  ringin'  through  hell  —  for 
all  eternity.  You  called  th'  roll  of  th'  livin' — on  that 
damnable  march;  Fm  —  callin'  th'  roll  of  th*  dead! 
Yore  name  comes  last !  There's  many  a  Texan  would 
give  his  —  chance  of  heaven  to  change  places  —  with 
me,  now!"  He  raised  his  head  in  the  darkness. 
"Oh,  Ernest,  old  pardner;  Fm  payin'  yore  debt,  in 
full!" 

The  spurs  stabbed  in  vain,  for  the  Delaware  was 
now  well  above  their  flaying  range ;  the  nails  scoring 
his  face  were  growing  feeble.  He  shifted  the  leg  hold 
again  and  managed  to  imprison  one  of  Salezar's  arms 
in  their  grip.  Lifting  himself  from  the  hips,  he  re- 
leased the  throat  hold  and  grabbed  the  Mexican's 
other  arm,  thrust  it  under  him  and  fell  back  on  it  as 
his  two  hands,  free  now  to  work  their  worst,  leaped 
back  under  the  swarthy  chin.  The  relentless  thumbs 
pressed  up  and  in. 

The  Blackfoot  on  guard  at  the  end  of  the  driveway 
thought  he  heard  the  door  open  and  close,  but  there 
was  no  doubt  about  the  labored  breathing  which 
wheezed  along  the  dark  wall.  Stumbling  steps  fal- 
tered and  dragged  and  then  the  Delaware  bumped 
into  him  and  held  to  him  for  a  moment. 

"  Git  th'  bosses,  Hank ! "  came  a  mumbled  com- 
mand. 


''LOS   TEJANOS!" 339 

"Thar  with  Jim  an'  Zeb,"  whispered  the  hunter  in 
surprise.     "  How'd  ye  get  so  wet?     Is  that  blood?" 

"Spurred  me — I'll  be  all  right  —  soon's  I  git 
breath.     He  —  fought  like  a  —  fiend." 

"Git  his  ears?"  eagerly  demanded  the  Blackfoot. 

"Thar's  been  cars  enough  took  —  already.  Come 
on;  she's  in  th'  palacto  —  with  Armijo!'' 

"Jest  what  we  figgered,  damn  him!"  growled  the 
Blackfoot,  leading  the  way. 

In  the  stable  at  the  rear  of  the  courtyard  a  decrepit 
dog,  white  with  age,  had  barked  feebly  when  its 
breath  permitted,  while  the  fight  had  raged  in  the 
house.  The  Blackfoot  had  considered  stopping  the 
wheezy  warnings,  but  they  did  not  have  power  enough 
to  lure  him  from  his  watch.  He  had  accepted  the 
lesser  of  the  two  evils  and  remained  on  guard.  As 
the  two  Indians  crept  from  the  courtyard  the  aged 
animal  burst  into  a  paroxysm  of  barking,  which  ex- 
hausted it.  To  those  who  knew  the  captain's  dog, 
its  barking  long  since  had  lost  all  meaning,  for,  as  the 
soldiers  said,  it  barked  over  nothing.  They  did  not 
know  that  the  animal  dreamed  day  and  night  of  the 
days  of  its  youth  and  strength  and  now,  in  its  dotage, 
in  imagination  was  living  over  again  stirring  incidents 
of  hunts  and  fights  long  past.  Gradually  it  recovered 
its  strength  from  sounding  its  barked  warnings  in 
vain,  and  pantingly  sniffed  the  air.  Its  actions  became 
frantic  and  the  decrepit  old  dog  struggled  to  its  feet, 
swaying  on  its  feeble  legs,  its  grizzled  muzzle  point- 
ing toward  its  master's  house.  The  composite  body 
odor  it  had  known  for  so  many  years  had  changed, 
and  ceased  abruptly.     Whining  and  whimpering,  the 


340  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

dog  searched  the  air  currents,  but  in  vain;  the  scent 
came  no  more.  Then,  sinking  back  on  its  haunches, 
it  raised  its  gray  nose  to  the  sky  and  poured  out  its 
grief  in  one  long,  quavering  howl  of  surprising  volume. 

The  sleeping  square  sprang  to  life,  superstitious 
terror  dominated  the  barracks.  Lights  gleamed  sud- 
denly and  the  barracks  door  opened  slowly,  grudging- 
ly as  frightened  soldiers  hurriedly  crossed  themselves. 
Don  Jesu  and  Robideau  pushed  hesitatingly  to  the 
portal  and  peered  fearsomely  into  the  night.  They 
suddenly  cried  out,  drew  their  ancient  pistols,  and 
fired  at  two  vague  figures  slinking  hurriedly  along 
the  side  of  the  house  opposite.  From  the  darkness 
there  came  quick  replies.  A  coruscating  poniard  of 
spiteful  flame  stabbed  into  the  night.  Don  Jesu 
whirled  on  buckling  legs  and  pitched  sidewise  to  the 
street.  A  second  stab  of  sparky  flame  split  the  dark- 
ness and  Robideau  reeled  back  into  the  arms  of  his 
panicky  soldiers.  As  the  heavy  reports  rolled  through 
the  town  they  seemed  to  be  a  signal,  for  on  the  south- 
ern outskirts  of  Santa  Fe  gun  after  gun  crashed  in  a 
rippling,  spasmodic  volley.  A  few  stragglers  in  the 
all  but  deserted  streets  raised  a  dreaded  cry  and  fled 
to  the  nearest  shelter.  The  cry  was  taken  up  and 
sent  rioting  through  the  city;  doors  were  doubly 
barred  and  the  soldiers  in  the  barracks,  safer  behind 
the  thick  mud  walls  than  they  would  be  out  in  the 
dark  open  against  such  an  enemy,  slammed  shut  the 
ponderous  door  and  frantically  built  barricades  of 
everything  movable. 

"  Los  Tejanos! "  rolled  the  panicky  cries.  "  Los 
Tejanos!    Los  Tejanos! " 


"LOS   TEJANOS!"  341 

The  wailing  warning  of  the  coming  of  a  plague 
could  not  have  held  more  terror.  Gone  were  the 
vaunted  boastings  and  the  sneers ;  gone  was  the  swag- 
gering bravado  of  the  dashing  cahalleros,  who  had  said 
what  they  would  do  to  any  Texan  force  that  dared 
to  brave  the  wrath  of  the  defenders  of  San  Francisco 
de  la  Santa  Fe.  Gone  was  all  faith,  never  too  sincere, 
in  ancient  escopeta  and  rusty  blunderbuss,  now  that 
the  occasion  was  close  at  hand  to  measure  them 
against  the  devil  weapons  of  hardy  Texan  fighting 
men,  of  the  breed  that  had  stood  off,  bloody  day  after 
bloody  day,  four  thousand  Mexican  regulars  before  a 
little  adobe  church,  now  glorified  for  all  the  ages  yet  to 
come.  To  panicky  minds  came  magic  words  of  evil 
portent;  the  Alamo  and  San  Jacinto.  To  evil  con- 
sciences, bowed  with  guilt,  came  burning  memories 
of  that  sick  and  starved  Texan  band  that  had  walked 
through  winter  days  and  shivered  through  winter 
nights  from  Santa  Fe  to  the  capital,  two  thousand 
miles  of  suffering,  and  every  step  a  torture.  Texan 
ears  had  swung  from  a  piece  of  rusty  wire  to  feed  the 
cruel  conceit  of  a  swarthy  tyrant. 

"Los  Tejanos!  Los  Tejanos!  Los  Tejanos!" 
At  the  palacio  a  human  brute  recoiled  before  a 
barred  door  between  him  and  a  desperate  captive, 
his  honeyed  cajolings  turning  to  acid  on  his  lying 
tongue.  No  longer  did  he  hear  the  measured  tread 
of  the  palace  guards,  who  secretly  exulted  as  they 
fled  and  left  him  defenseless. 

"Los  Tejanos!    Los  Tejanos!    Los  Tejanos!" 
He  dashed  through  a  door  to  grab  his  weapons  and 
flee,  and  in  through  the  open,  undefended  portal  from 


342  "BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

the  square  leaped  a  blood-covered  Delaware,  an  epic 
of  rags  and  rage,  a  man  so  maddened  that  all  thought 
of  weapons  save  Nature's,  had  gone  from  his  burning 
brain.  Behind  him  leaped  a  Blackfoot,  dynamic  and 
deadly  as  a  panther,  a  Colt  pistol  in  one  eager,  up- 
raised hand,  in  the  other  the  cold  length  of  a  keen 
skinning  knife.  Behind  them  from  a  wagon  deserted 
in  the  square  came  the  sharp  crashes  of  Hawken  and 
Colt,  and  a  shouted  battlecry :  "  Remember  th*  Alamo! 
Remember  th*  Alamo!    Texans  to  th'  fore!" 

As  the  Delaware  dashed  past  an  open  door  he 
caught  a  flurry  of  movement,  the  flare  of  a  pistol  and 
his  laughter  pealed  out  in  one  mad  shout  as  he 
stopped  like  a  cat  and  leaped  in  through  the  opening. 
Another  flash,  another  roar,  and  a  burning  welt  across 
a  shoulder  spurred  the  bloody  Nemesis  to  a  greater 
speed.  The  wavering  sword  he  knocked  aside  and 
near  two  hundred  pounds  of  fighting,  mountain  sinew 
hurled  itself  behind  a  driving  fist.  The  hurtling  bulk 
of  Armijo  crashed  against  a  wall  and  dropped  like  a 
bag  of  grain  as  the  plunging  Delaware  whirled  to 
pounce  upon  it.  As  he  turned,  a  scream  rang  out 
somewhere  behind  him,  through  the  door  he  had  just 
entered,  a  scream  vibrant  with  desperate  hope,  and 
he  bellowed  a  triumphant  answer.  Here  was  his 
mission;  Armijo  was  a  side  issue.  The  governor, 
helpless  before  him,  was  forgotten  and  the  Delaware 
whirled  through  the  door  bellowing  one  name  over 
and  over  again.     "Patience!     Patience!     Patience!'' 

"Los  Tejanos!  Los  Tejanos!"  came  from  the  pub- 
lic square. 

"Los  Tejanos!    Los  Tejanos!''    quavered    the    de- 


LOS  TEJANOS!"  343 


spairing  echo  throughout  the  quaking  town,  while 
from  the  south  there  came  the  steady  crash  of  alien 
rifles,  firing  harmlessly  into  the  air. 

Before  him  a  Blackfoot  methodically  battered  at  a 
door,  taking  a  few  quick  steps  backward  and  a  plung- 
ing dive  forward.  The  Delaware  shouted  again  and 
added  the  power  of  his  driving  weight.  There  came 
a  splintering  crash  and  the  door  went  in.  The  Black- 
foot  whirled  and  darted  to  the  great  portal  leading  to 
the  square,  bouncing  on  the  balls  of  his  feet  like  a 
cougar  expecting  danger  at  every  point.  The  Dela- 
ware scrambled  to  his  feet  and  gathered  a  white- 
faced  woman  in  his  arms,  crushing  her  to  his  bloody 
chest.  He  felt  her  go  suddenly  limp  and,  throwing 
her  across  a  bare  and  bleeding  shoulder,  he  drew  a 
Colt  repeating  pistol  and  sprang  after  his  Indian  ally, 
not  feeling  the  weight  of  his  precious  burden. 

Lurid,  stabbing  rapiers  of  fire  still  sprang  from  the 
wagon  barricade,  making  death  certain  to  any  man 
who  opened  the  barracks'  door.  Between  their  heavy 
roars  the  woodwork  of  the  wagon  smacked  sharply 
in  time  to  bursts  of  fire  from  the  barracks'  few  win- 
dows. The  Delaware  darted  from  the  palacio  door 
and  held  close  to  the  wall,  hidden  by  the  portico  and 
the  darkness.  As  he  reached  the  end  of  the  column- 
supported  roof  the  Blackfoot  bulked  out  of  the  night 
on  his  horse,  and  leading  four  others.  The  lost-soul 
call  of  a  loon  sounded  and  changed  the  deadly  wagon 
into  a  vehicle  of  peace  and  quiet  as  its  Arapahoe  de- 
fenders slipped  away  from  it.  The  sudden  creaking 
of  saddle  leather  was  followed  by  the  rolling  thunder 
of  flying  hoofs  as  the  first  three  horses  left  the  square. 


344  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

A  moment's  pause  and  then  two  more  horses  galloped 
through  the  darkness  after  the  others,  the  Arapahoe 
rear  guard  sitting  almost  sidewise  in  their  saddles, 
their  long,  hot  rifles  pointing  backward  to  send  hotter 
greetings  to  whoever  might  follow. 

They  raced  like  gambling  fools  through  the  dark 
night,  the  Blackfoot  leading  the  way  with  the  instinct 
of  a  homing  bird.  Mile  after  mile  strung  out  behind 
them,  pastures,  gulHes,  knolls  rolling  past.  While 
they  climbed  and  dipped  and  circled  they  gradually 
sensed  a  steady  rising  of  the  ground.  Suddenly  the 
Blackfoot  shouted  for  them  to  halt,  and  the  laboring 
horses  welcomed  the  moment's  breathing  space.  The 
guide  threw  himself  on  the  ground  and  pressed  his 
ear  against  it.  In  a  moment  he  was  back  in  the  saddle 
and  gave  the  word  to  go  on  again.  He  had  heard 
no  sounds  of  pursuit  and  he  chuckled  as  he  leaned 
over  close  to  the  ^Delaware  who  rode  at  his  flank. 

"  Nothin'  stirrin'  behind  us,  fur's  I  could  make  out," 
he  said.  "They  can  only  track  us  by  sound  in  th' 
dark,  at  any  speed,  an'  I'm  gamblin'  they  wait  fer 
daylight.  Thar  scared  ter  stick  thar  noses  out  o' 
doors  this  night.     How's  yore  gal?" 

Tom's  rumbling  reply  could  mean  anything  and 
they  kept  on  through  the  night  without  further  words. 
The  trail  had  been  growing  steadily  rougher  and 
steeper  and  the  horses  were  permitted  to  fall  into  a 
swinging  lope.  Another  hour  passed  and  then  Hank 
signalled  for  a  stop.  From  his  lips  whistled  the 
crowded,  hurried,  repeated  call  of  a  whip-poor-will. 
Three  times  the  insistent  demand  rang  out,  clear  and 
piercing.     At  the  count  of   ten    an   echoing   whistle 


''LOS   TEJANOS!"  345 

sounded   and   a   light   flickered   on   the   trail   ahead. 

"J'get  her?"  bawled  a  voice,  tremulous  with  fear 
and  anxiety,  and  only  a  breath  ahead  of  another. 

"  Hell  yes ! "  roared  Hank.  "  Got  Salezar,  Don  Jesu 
and  Robideau,  too;  only  we  left  them  behind  —  with 
thar  ears ! " 

In  another  moment  Uncle  Joe  and  Adam  Cooper 
took  the  precious  burden  from  the  Delaware's  numbed 
arms,  someone  uncovered  the  lighted  candle  lantern, 
and  saddles  were  thrown  on  fresh  mounts.  The 
Pueblo  pushed  forward  and  peered  into  Patience's 
face,  and  his  own  face  broke  into  smiles.  His  torrent 
of  mixed  Spanish  and  Indian  brought  a  grin  to  Hank's 
painted  countenance. 

"  This  hyar  shore  is  good  beavef,"  he  chuckled, 
clapping  the  Pueblo  on  the  shoulder,  "  but  thar's  more 
good  news  fer  you."  He  put  his  mouth  close  to  the 
Pueblo's  ear  and  whispered :  "  Yer  friend  Salezar  will 
be  leadin'  a  percession  ter  th'  buryin'  ground.  That 
Delaware  thar  killed  him  with  his  bare  hands!" 

The  Pueblo  touched  Tom's  arm,  his  hand  passing 
down  it  caressingly,  to  be  seized  in  a  grip  which  made 
him  wince;  and  when  Adam  Cooper  offered  him  a 
handful  of  gold  coins  the  Indian  drew  himself  up 
proudly  and  pushed  them  away. 

"  For  his  friends  Pablo  do  what  he  can,"  he  said 
in  Spanish.  "  I  now  take  these  horses  back  on  the 
trail  to  make  a  puzzle  in  the  sand  that  will  take  time 
to  read.  Pablo  does  not  forget.  Adios!  '*  He  vault- 
ed onto  his  horse,  took  the  lead  ropes  of  the  tired 
mounts,  and  was  lost  in  the  darkness,  eager  to  weave 
a  pattern  of  hoof  marks  to  mock  pursuing  eyes. 


346  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS'' 

The  little  cavalcade  pushed  on,  following  a  trail 
that  wound  along  the  sides  of  the  mountains,  passing 
many  places  where  a  handful  of  resolute  men  could 
check  scores.  The  cold  mountain  air  bit  shrewdly, 
and  occasional  gusts  of  wind  blustered  along  the  tim- 
bered slopes  and  set  the  pines  and  cedars  whispering. 
Higher  and  higher  went  the  narrow  trail,  skirting 
sheer  walls  of  rock  on  one  side,  and  dizzy  precipices 
on  the  other;  higher  and  higher  plodded  the  little  car- 
avan in  single  file,  following  the  unhesitant  leader. 

There  came  a  leaden  glow  high  up  on  the  right. 
It  paled  swiftly  as  a  streak  of  silver  flared  up  behind 
the  jagged  crests  of  the  mountains,  here  and  there 
caught  by  a  snow  mantle  to  gleam  in  virgin  white. 
On  the  left  lay  abysmal  darkness,  like  a  lake  of  ink, 
and  slowly  out  of  it  pushed  ranks  of  treetops  as  the 
dawn  rolled  downward  and  the  mountain  fogs  dis- 
solved in  dew.  Deep  canons,  sheer  precipices;  long 
streaks  on  mountain  sides  where  resistless  avalanches 
had  scraped  all  greenery  from  the  glistening  rock; 
green  amphitheaters,  fit  for  fairy  pageants;  velvety 
knolls  and  jewels  of  mountain  pastures  lay  below  them, 
with  here  and  there  the  crystal  gleam  of  ribbon-like 
mountain  brooks,  their  waters  embarked  on  a  long, 
depressing  journey  through  capricious  oceans  of  bil- 
lowy sands  and  the  salty  leagues  of  desert  wastes. 
Birds  flashed  among  the  branches,  chipmunks  chat- 
tered furiously  at  these  unheeding  invaders  of  their 
mountain  fastness;  high  up  on  a  beetling  crag  a  big- 
horn ram  was  silhouetted  in  rigid  majesty,  and  over 
all  lazily  drifted  an  eagle  against  the  paling  western 
sky,  symbolical  of  freedom. 


*'LOS   TEJANOS!"  347 

There  came  the  musical  tinkle  of  falling  water  and 
Hank  stopped,  raising  his  hand.  Into  the  little  moun- 
tain dell  the  caravan  wound  and  in  a  moment  muscles 
tired  and  cramped  from  long,  hard  riding  found  relief 
in  a  score  of  little  duties.  While  the  animals  were 
relieved  of  saddles  and  packs  and  securely  picketed, 
and  a  fire  made  of  dry  wood  from  a  bleached  windfall. 
Hank  climbed  swiftly  up  the  mountain  side  for  a 
view  of  the  back  trail.  Perched  on  an  out-thrust  fin- 
ger of  rock  high  above  the  dell  he  knelt  motionless, 
searching  with  keen  and  critical  eyes  every  yard  of 
that  windswept  trail,  following  it  along  its  sloping 
length  until  it  shrunk  into  a  hair  line  across  the  frown- 
ing mountain  sides  and  then  faded  out  entirely.  Be- 
low him  grotesque  figures  moved  about  like  gnomes 
performing  incantations  around  a  tiny  blaze ;  dwarfed 
horses  cropped  the  plentiful  grass  and  succulent 
leaves,  and  a  timid  streamer  of  pale  blue  smoke  arose 
like  a  plumb  line  until  the  cruising  gusts  above  the 
tree-tops  tore  it  into  feathery  wisps  and  carried  it 
away.  Across  the  valley  the  rising  sun  pushed  golden 
fioods  of  light  into  crevices,  among  the  rocks,  and 
turned  the  pines  and  cedars  into  glistening  cones  of 
green  on  stems  of  jet. 

"  Wall,"  said  a  voice  below  him,  "  hyar  I  am.  Go 
down  an'  feed.     See  anythin*?" 

Hank  leaned  over  and  looked  down  at  the  climbing 
figure,  whose  laborious  progress  sent  a  noisy  stream 
of  clicking  pebbles  behind  him  like  sparks  from  a 
rocket. 

"  Nothin*  I  ain't  plumb  glad  ter  see,"  replied  Hank. 
"This  hyar  beats  th'  settlements  all  ter  hell."    As 


348  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

Jim's  horrible  face  peered  over  the  edge  of  the  rock 
balcony  Hank  eyed  it  critically  and  shook  his  head. 
"IVe  seen  some  plumb  awful  lookin'  'Rapahoes;  but 
nothin'  ter  stack  up  ag'in  you.  Vermillion  mebby  is 
yer  favorite  color,  but  it  don't  improve  yer  looks 
a  hull  lot.  Neither  does  that  sorrel  juice.  How's  th' 
gal?" 

"  Full  o'  spunk  an'  gittin'  chipper  as  a  squirrel," 
answered  Jim.  "  Who's  goin'  ter  git  th'  blame  fer 
last  night's  fandango?" 

"  Four  murderin'  Injuns,  a-plunderin'  an'  a-kid- 
nappin',"  chuckled  Hank.  "  Woodson's  goin'  ter  raise 
hell  about  th'  hull  Cooper  fambly  bein'  stole.  Ar- 
mijo'll  keep  his  mouth  shet  an'  pass  th'  crime  along 
ter  us,  an'  make  a  great  show  o'  gittin'  us;  but,"  he 
winked  knowingly  at  his  accomplice  in  the  night's 
activities,  "  chasin'  four  desperite  Injuns  along  an 
open  trail,  whar  his  sojers  kin  spread  out  an'  take 
advantage  o'  thar  bein'  twenty  ter  one  is  one  thing; 
chasin'  'em  along  a  trail  like  this,  whar  they  has  ter 
ride  Injun  fashion,  is  a  hull  lot  diff'rent.  They've  had 
thar  bellies  full  o'  chasin'  along  Injun  trails  in  th' 
mountings.  Th'  Apaches,  Utes,  an'  Comanches  has 
showed  'em  it  don't  pay.  Thar's  sharpshooters  that 
can't  be  got  at;  thar's  rollin'  rocks,  an'  ambushes;  an' 
chasin'  murderin'  Injuns  afoot  up  mounting  sides  ain't 
did  in  this  part  o'  th'  country." 

"  Meanin'  we  won't  be  chased?"  demanded  Jim, 
incredulously. 

"  Not  meanin'  nothin'  o'  th'  kind,  "  growled  Hank, 
spitting  into  three  hundred  feet  of  void.  "  We  killed 
some  of  th'  military  aristo-crazy,  as  Tom  calls  'em. 


"LOS   TEJANOS!"  349 

didn't  we  ?  We  made  fools  outer  th'  whole  prairie-dog 
town,  didn't  we?  An'  what's  worse,  we  stole  th'  gal 
that  Armijo  war  sweet  on,  an'  Tom  knocked  him 
end  over  end  —  oh,  Jim,  ye  should  'a'  seen  that!  Six 
feet  o'  greaser  gov'ner  a-turnin'  a.  cartwheel  in  his 
own  house!     Chase  us?     Hell,  yes!  " 

The  Arapahoe  rubbed  his  chin.  "  Fust  ye  say  one 
thing,  then  ye  say  another.  What  ye  mean,  Or 
Buffaler?" 

"  I'm  bettin'  thar's  a  greaser  army  a-poundin'  along 
th'  wagon  road  fer  Raton  Pass,"  replied  Hank,  spitting 
again  with  great  gusto.  "We're  a  Delaware  from 
Bent's,  a  Blackfoot  from  th'  Upper  Missoury,  an'  two 
ugly  'Rapahoes  from  'tother  side  o'  St.  Vrains,  ain't 
we?  Wall,  if  ye  know  a  fox's  den  ye  needn't  f oiler 
him  along  th'  ridges."  He  chuckled  again.  "We're 
goin'  another  way  over  some  Ute  trails  I  knows  of." 

"  But  s'posin*  they  f oiler  us  along  this  trail?" 

Hank  looked  speculatively  back  along  the  narrow 
pathway,  with  its  numerous  bends,  and  then  glanced 
pityingly  at  his  anxious  friend.  "  I  jest  told  ye  why 
they  won't ;  an'  if  they  do,  let  'em ! " 

Ogden  looked  steadily  southward  along  the  trail  and 
suddenly  laughed:     "Yes;  let  'em!" 

In  the  great  courtyard  of  Bent's  Fort  one  evening 
more  than  a  week  later,  three  trappers  sat  with  their 
backs  against  the  brass  cannon  that  scowled  at  the 
heavy  doors.  They  were  planning  their  winter's  trip 
in  the  mountains,  figuring  out  the  supplies  and  para- 
phernalia for  a  party  of  four,  when  Hank,  glancing 
up,  saw  two  people  slowly  walking  along  the  high, 
wide  parapet  on  the  side  toward  the  Arkansas.     He 


g5o  ''BRING  ME  HIS  EARS" 

raised  an  arm,  pointing,  and  his  companions,  following 
it  with  their  eyes,  saw  the  two  figures  suddenly  be- 
come like  one  against  the  moonlit  sky. 

Hank  sighed,  bit  his  lip,  and  looked  down. 

"  Better  figger  on  a  party  o'  three,"  he  said. 


A 


a 


L^T??JKE  lAST 


SEliOW 


Date 


-=^==_^^1^^^^^^^  SEVENTH    DAY 


YB  68718 


y 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CAUFORNIA  LIBRARY 


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